


Dream Me A Sonatine | LOONA & The Raven Cycle

by emmathesadnerd



Category: LOONA (Korea Band), Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Assassin - Freeform, Cabeswater - Freeform, Demon, Dreams, F/F, Greywaren, Paranormal, Slow Burn, Supernatural - Freeform, everyone is an edgy shit, hopefully my tone/pacing issues don't throw you off a cliff, i cannot compare to maggie stiefvater, ley lines, romance isn't a huge part, this is kind of a mess sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2019-11-01 07:22:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17862896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmathesadnerd/pseuds/emmathesadnerd
Summary: Depending on where you begin the story, it was about a violinist, an assassin, and fortune-telling fish.Depending on where you end the story, it was about twelve lonesome girls.[loosely based on loona mvs and the raven cycle universe, plus other influences. 'the raven cycle' belongs to maggie stiefvater. also available on wattpad: https://my.w.tt/pMXR8NoNsU ]





	1. Albträume, Socks, and Candyfloss

Kim Hyunjin’s eyes pried themselves open after a good minute of lying utterly frozen, and streaks of sunlight burst through her window and temporarily blinded her with their brightness. The morning was lively and fresh, and she sort of wanted to punch it. Instead, she sat up and got out of bed, pausing only to open her bedside drawer and put something fuzzy and weird in it, only giving the object a fleeting, reluctant glance.

She felt more tired than usual. Mornings were usually dull and fatigue inducing in her case, but this particular one weighed on her like a pile of bricks. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the dream or because she was in her dorm room in a pretentious music school flooded with insufferable twats.

Hyunjin reckoned there were two types of people excluding herself attending _Salzburg Musikakademie._ First, there were the copy-pasted, money-laden, picture-perfect model students. They were a special species of snob, somehow managing to look down even on people taller than them, and born, raised, and suffocated in riches and fortune. Most of them were prodigies that had been tickling the ivories as soon as they were out of the womb, and they all played at least six instruments. They never failed to mention that they ‘are studying music for passion, not money’ because they were already eating off platinum coated silverware and shitting bricks of pure gold.

Hyunjin despised them, but she despised the second category a fraction more: the arrogant bastards. They seemed to live to demean and degrade those who were a few pennies short of being ‘one of them’ for example, an unlucky student would often wake with all the strings on their instrument removed or their sheet music ripped to shreds. They were unruly and reckless, deliberately wearing their ties slightly askew and studying once in a blue moon within a sea of blue moons. The most terrifying thing was their lack of fear and the school’s lack of concern; bloody fistfights would end in broken limbs due to their sheer defiance and lack of empathy.

Lucky for Hyunjin, she was sharing her dorm with both types.

‘Wakey fucking wakey, Vivianne, Hyunie-bunny.’

Of course Hyejoo was already awake, shaking the bedsheets with an unnecessary amount of vigour in Hyunjin’s face. Behind her, the sun glared through the large stained glass window and onto the red carpet on which three beds stood: one against the window (Vivi’s), one on the right side of the door (Hyunjin’s), and one on the left (Hyejoo’s). There was a large wardrobe and bedside drawer by each bed, and above Hyejoo’s there was a small, hand-crafted tapestry that couldn’t have been less Hyejoo-like. The sheets blew a gust of wind at her again. Hyunjin couldn’t muster the energy to flip her off and instead sidestepped towards her wardrobe. She heard Hyejoo’s derisive laugh — she was certainly in a good mood this morning — and with it came Vivi’s loud yawn, which somehow managed to sound condescending by itself. The pomposity was doubled, however, as Vivi spoke,

‘Morning all. Gosh, it is rather warm, isn’t it? I fear I’ve stained my new nightgown with unruly amounts of sweat.’

‘Nah, I emptied beer over you in the night.’

It wasn’t difficult to tell which one was the snob and which one was the bastard.

‘You’re barely seventeen. How on earth did you manage to get your hands on al— never mind.’ It was often wise to avoid wondering how Hyejoo did things. Sometimes you really didn’t want to know. ‘ _Hast du gut geschlafen,_ Hyunjin?’ asked Vivi without looking at her. Careless. Confident. Fluent in German.

‘Uh, _ja, aber ich haben… ge… getraum…_ ’ Clumsy. Unfinished. Not at all fluent in German.

‘ _Getr_ _ä_ _umt_ , corrected Vivi swiftly. ‘There’s an _umlaut_ over the “a”, so it’s pronounced differently. You also need to conjugate the auxiliary verb to _habe._ ’

‘ _Oui. Je habe sognato. Muy bien_ ,’ added Hyejoo helpfully. ‘Seriously, Vivi, she’s a lost cause, I wouldn’t bother.’

‘As blunt as you are, Hyejoo, you’re probably right. But just in case you need it, Hyunjin, the word for nightmare is _Alptraum._ ’

Hyunjin sighed and continued fumbling through her wardrobe. Vivi supposedly meant well, but it hadn’t been a nightmare. Her dream had been something, something that made her eyes wet when she opened them, and something that stung her heart with tender emotions. It had been something that made her remember.

The icy wasteland had stretched far into an invisible horizon the moment she closed her eyes, and her ears rang with silence. Most of the ground was a frozen white, but there were several patches of coal-black gravel decorated with shattered shards of ice that were as clear as glass.

Cabeswater. Once a scorching desert, once a tree-tangled, thriving forest, now a barren, frosted snow skin, but always a treasure island for dream thieves. That was what she was, a thief, pillaging in a world trapped in the vast chasm of her mind.

Not too far away from her, the familiar wreck lay rusted and coated in spikes of hoarfrost, lifeless and broken. It was a plane, wingless and half sunk into the ground, with only splintered lumps of metal remaining. And to her far left, the whiteness transitioned into cool green hills with dead, silvery trees. Cabeswater sang of loneliness, every speck of dust and snow and stone holding the same isolated deadness, like a memory fading away. Perhaps Cabeswater _was_ fading away. She knew she wasn’t the first to have dreamed of it, so maybe it was growing tired.

But tonight, it wasn’t quite dead yet. For a few seconds, she stayed motionless and tense, trying to work out if the sounds floating through the misty air were hostile. A smile tugged on the corners of her mouth as she recognised the sounds of laughter and music. Also relief. Relief hit her like a tonne of bricks, because this dream was a safe one. _No night horrors tonight._

As the sounds grew steadily louder, things appeared. They didn’t fade into existence, it was more like they’d been there the whole time, invisible to her mundane eyes. And now they allowed her to see them, welcoming her with the sugary scent of candyfloss and bonfire-like smoke billowing from steam engines.

The scene around her was a 19th century-esque steam fairground: red and white striped gazebos, cheap stuffed toys, barbequed meats and sugared sweets, the constant tinkling of repetitive music-box tunes, and joyful cries of children.

It was simultaneously ugly and beautiful. The cheapness of it was almost appealing, watching dark steam engine smoke pollute the sky was like an artist painting soft greys across a dark blue sky. Hearing the laughter of youth but seeing no people at all was eerie and yet wistful and reminiscent.

 _I’ve been here before._ The thought appeared in her head before she realised it. Recurring dreams weren’t uncommon, but this one seemed too specific, too significant…

The merry-go-round sat further away from the rest of the scene, silent and uneventful. It was lit up with the same warm lights, but it radiated a feeling of melancholy. There was no one sitting atop the ornately decorated horses, and no joyous song resonated from its speakers, in fact, it was almost as empty as Cabeswater itself.

Of course it was empty. She’d dreamt this before, a long time ago, so long ago that she’d almost, _almost_ let it slip through a crevice in her mind. But dreams had a funny thing of not wanting to be forgotten, and somehow she could forget precious memories but still be haunted by every single dream. The memory unravelled now, and she remembered being young and lost, watching the merry-go-round with naïve, longing eyes. And she saw a girl.

Things weren’t often living in her dreams, but occasionally a creature or being would emerge, speaking to her in foreign tongues and rippling in and out of existence. Nothing as normal as a human had ever materialised until that day.

‘Have you seen my sock?’ asked Hyejoo back in the present. ‘It’s boring, grey, and a bit wrinkly, kinda like you, Hyunjin.’ Hyunjin resisted the intense urge to throw her violin at the black-haired girl and carefully folded her clothes for the day, making her way over to the bathroom. ‘Don’t throw your violin at me. Actually, I’m not sure why I’m worrying, if your aim is as good as your German…’

‘You’re a little cruel to her, Hyejoo,’ said Vivi absent-mindedly, twirling a lock of her candyfloss-pink hair around a curler.

‘Yep. Have you seen my sock?’

‘No, your side of the room’s a mess, I don’t dare to go anyway near it—’ The bathroom door clicked shut, effectively drowning out their voices. Hyunjin sighed, undressing as slowly as she could. Peace and quiet was hard to come by with those two around. She supposed, in a way, dreaming was the only time she had to herself. It was relaxing, being able to slip away into a world where she didn’t have a care, until it was over, that is.

Because what really mattered was what she took out of her dreams.

Greywaren. That was what she’d discovered she was after lots of panicked research at a young age. She was capable of bringing things from her dreams into reality, and these objects were often magical, impossible, and dangerous — or all of those things. Of course, the objects rarely made sense, because they followed the logic of dreams, not reality: a chair made of solid (but unfrozen) water, a clock with a thousand hands, or clothes woven from a colour that didn’t exist.

Or a human.

Strangely, the weirdest thing Hyunjin had pulled from her dreams had also been the most rational. She had been young, too young to fully understand her capabilities, and the girl on the merry-go-round had looked the same age as her. Age didn’t matter though, the girl was just a fabrication, not real, not alive. Until Hyunjin accidentally ripped her from her own mind.

When she awoke with a living stranger in her bedroom, all rational thoughts flew from her head. She remembered screaming and shouting at the girl or at herself, and her petrified screams had driven the girl out her house. She didn’t know her name, she could hardly remember her face anymore. But every time she dreamt of this merry-go-round, it was always empty and sad. Sometimes she wondered what would have happened if she’d left the girl there. Would she have been sucked into nothingness as Hyunjin awoke?

She pulled the yellow turtleneck over her head and exhaled, glancing at her reflection. She’d grown a lot since then. The girl would be older now too, if she was alive.

 _I hope you’re living a good life,_ thought Hyunjin as she opened the bathroom door and pushed her thoughts away.

‘—get your perfectly manicured hands off my crap.’

‘What’s this, knitting needles? Where on earth did these come from, and why do _you_ of all people have them?’

Hyejoo snatched the needles and wool from Vivi’s hands, and for a split second Hyunjin noticed a flash something odd in her eyes, but Hyejoo’s normal angry expression returned before she could remember what it was.

‘I don’t know where they came from! Can we go already?’

Vivi said seriously, ‘I mean, as long as I’m not interrupting you from your new hand-knitted clothing line—’

‘Fuck off.’

Hyunjin slung her violin case over her shoulder. Her hand was on the door handle as a quiet voice in her head asked, _aren’t you forgetting something, Hyunjin?_

She bit her lip to stop herself from cursing at her own stupidity and hurried over to her bedside drawer. She opened the draw quickly, her eyes lingering momentarily on the object at the top: last night’s dream prize. It was a stuffed teddy bear with dull, glassy beads for eyes and a wonkily stitched mouth. Its fur had that cheap fairground texture, but the most noticeable thing was instead of furry arms and legs, it had real chicken legs. They wriggled slightly as Hyunjin gazed at it, but the rest of the toy stayed still and lifeless. She pushed the drawer shut and twisted the key round the lock, listening carefully for a click and giving the drawer several jiggles before leaving it.

‘We’d better head to the recital hall,’ said Vivi brightly, carefully closing her black velvet clarinet case. Hyejoo followed her, ‘carefully’ flinging her battered French horn into a misshapen case and heaving it over her shoulder. Hyunjin gave her a withering look. ‘I can’t wait to practise our ensembles, and it’s going to be so interesting hearing everyone else’s — I’ve always wondered what an amateur woodwind ensemble sounds like, it’ll be like a culture shock for me…’

Hyunjin sometimes wondered why it was so easy to drown out Vivi’s loud, irritating voice. As they walked down the spiralling staircase, she became completely deaf to whatever she was harping on about now and focused on humming her violin medley in her head. It was part of a sonatine string quartet she was composing with three other students. Perhaps Vivi noticed that neither of the other two were listening to her, because her voice got louder.

‘…but I guess when you _haven’t_ been raised on Schubert and Mozart it must be hard to be able to compose such a piece _naturally_ , so I shan’t belittle them…’

Hyunjin gritted her teeth. Every day she had to endure this. Every. Day. Not only did she sleep and wake up with her roommates, she also saw them in class, at lunch, and while she practised. Were they friends? Not in the slightest. The biggest (and probably only) reason they hung out was because they could all speak Korean — Hyunjin and Hyejoo being Korean and Vivi being a smart little shit. However, only two of the three could speak fluent German, and Hyunjin was unsurprisingly not one of those two.

Vivi particularly annoyed Hyunjin. Not only was she a flamboyant, all-knowing twat, but she was also fluent in three languages. She was a pretty famous model from Hong Kong — a fact she never failed to state at least six times a day — and had somehow learnt both Korean and Austrian-German in the span of a few years, whilst simultaneously studying music. She was the main reason Hyunjin avoided Vogue magazines, because her makeup-smeared face would usually be plastered on the front cover.

They were at the doors of the concert hall now, a rich mahogany and emblazoned with swirly gold patterns. She could already hear the interspersing sounds of scales and hurried warm-ups being played simultaneously by about 200 students. Vivi pushed the magnificent doors open, and the bright lights of the concert hall burst into Hyunjin’s vision. Piano keys clinked, double basses rumbled, and piccolos chirped across the wide, spacious hall, and every student seemed united in music.

Upon closer inspection, there was nothing but isolation. Not a single conversation was heard, beads of sweat hung upon students’ temples, and eyes darted across sheet music. It was as if they were all in separate rooms, yet each one of them was competitively working to be the best, and only the best. Even the arrogant assholes played vigorously, projecting their anger and spite into their playing. _Clonk, screech, shriek._ It was a chromatic cluster of chaos.

‘The hills are alive with the sound of music,’ said Hyejoo, grinning wickedly.

Hyunjin quickly migrated to the quietest corner of the room (which was still deafeningly loud) and got her violin out of her case. She began tuning it, and some people around her had started taking a break, stretching their worn out fingers and panting heavily. Three of the students stalked over to her, bored expressions on their faces. She quickly recognised them as the others performing in her string quartet and paused, setting down her bow warily.

‘Hi,’ said one of them, in German. Erik. He was tall, with dark eyebrows casting shadows over his eyes and an arrogant curve to his mouth. Hyunjin raised her eyebrows and he said something that her brief knowledge of the language understood to be: ‘You’d better have practised, or else.’

‘I’ve practised,’ she replied indignantly — or as indignantly as she could in broken German — and he smirked at the others. Oh Hyunjin was sure they had some hilarious inside joke about her incapability to learn a language, and she really couldn’t be bothered to find out what it was. She stared at them blandly. The girl, Lili, began talking very fast, shoved a piece of paper underneath Hyunjin’s nose and left with the other two.

‘Gee, thanks.’ She observed the paper, which seemed to be an edited version of their sheet music. Annoyance surged within her as she realised the majority of her part had been embellished, or completely changed, meaning she now had around five minutes to relearn the entire piece before performing it in front of the entire school. _Damn them,_ she thought. _Damn these selfish bastards and their arrogance._

A few minutes later, all the students gathered in the seats facing the stage as Frau Freudenberg began waffling about several probably important things. Hyunjin probably should’ve been attempting to listen, but her insides boiled with anger and her concentration was elsewhere. She watched vaguely as the first group got onto the stage to show their piece, and Freudenberg asked them all to listen and give feedback to the group at the end. Hyunjin tried to focus, but there was a bark of jeering laughter from behind her, along with the words ‘Hyunjin’ and ‘ _Schlampe_ ’. It took every ounce of her self-restraint not to turn around and throw her chair at Lili, Erik, and Lars.

Somehow, her ears focused enough to detect a pretty cheesy modulation in the piece, and she mentally noted it down in case she was called on. Her eyes travelled to a mop of pink hair within the audience, and sure enough, Vivi’s eyebrows were furrowed in deep concentration, and she held a notebook with lines and lines of writing. A few rows behind him, Hyejoo was lounging back on her chair and gazing at the back of her own hand, as if she were admiring her reflection in a mirror.

The longer she gazed around the room, at Erik, at Vivi, at Hyejoo, the more her eyelids drooped. The music sounded distant, and she was hardly aware of her head dropping onto her chest and her breathing slowing. Hyejoo looked funny admiring her own hand… Was that bitch seriously arrogant enough to love every tiny part of herself? Maybe she was getting premature wrinkles. _I hope so…_

The music was so quiet now. Hyunjin couldn’t even remember why she could hear music in the first place. She felt calm, nothing but blackness in front of her eyes. Her lashes fluttered, unseeing, but still on the verge of snapping open.

She was wallowing in an endless swamp of pointlessness. Often, she’d wonder why she was even at a music school. She wasn’t particularly talented or naturally musical, and she could barely speak a word of the language, but what else did she have going for her? A strange supernatural power?

_I’m tired of this. All of it. This isn’t the life I want. I wish I could dream up a sonatine. I wish I could dream away the people laughing at me. I wish I could dream of that girl again, and smile at her, and be friends with her._

Something within her was urging her to sleep, willing her to let go of her consciousness. It was as if something important lay in her dreams, pulling her into a slumber. Perhaps was because of the tedious showcase, or the satisfaction of rebelling that Hyunjin closed her eyes.

And began to dream.


	2. La Mort d'Annie Levett

Jeon Heejin relished the cold streaks of wind soaring across her arms, stood-up hairs and bumps peppered over her skin. It pinched with uncomfortable stabs, and that was exactly what she held onto, tightly with an invisible fist. Before, she hadn’t felt any pain. Before, she couldn’t quite remember if she’d even felt anything.

She was surrounded by designer shopping bags and velvet coats and a sky rolling with greyish clouds. People bustled by, humming tunelessly as they accidentally knocked into her side. The split second before they realised always sent panicked blood rushing to her head before she heard the insincere, hurried mutter of ‘sorry’, and relief spread from her heart to her fingertips. _I am knowable._

Of course, being in Paris meant that instead of saying ‘sorry’, they’d say ‘ _pardon_ ’, which didn’t affect Heejin as she’d lived there for as long as she could remember, despite Jiwoo’s insistent protests of: ‘Hey, you look really Korean. Your name’s Korean. Are you sure you’re not Korean?’ Heejin wasn’t Korean. Unless she was. Nobody knew.

She checked her watch, a nervous habit and a test of the fragile reliability of her watch. Unless she was mistaken, her watch was five minutes ahead (again) and she was ten minutes early (again). The confectionary was just around the next corner, past the pet shop and the newspaper agent. Sunlight collapsed onto the pavement through the leaves, and it looked like she was walking on golden freckles. The freckles lead her to the sickeningly pastel-coloured door, and she pushed it open.

‘Macaron!’

Macaron was not Heejin’s name, so instead of responding, she stood still confusedly. That turned out to be a mistake as several macarons were flung at her, landing on her face in a mess of crumbs and cream.

‘Thanks, Jiwoo,’ said Heejin. She wiped her face while Jiwoo turned around to the counter and got her another macaron, this time pointedly handing it to her. Heejin reached inside her pocket for her wallet.

‘No, no. This macaron is free of charge,’ said Jiwoo. ‘Business is booming. Plus, Chaewon told me your boss has been being stingy recently.’ She added brightly, ‘Shithead.’

Heejin nodded, her features composed as she took a bite of the macaron. ‘Yeah, apparently we’re losing our touch.’ _As if._ ‘Looks like you’re doing well then.’

Jiwoo repeated, ‘Business is booming. The macarons are sadly not booming, hence why I threw them at you. I need your opinion.’

‘They’re chewy. Flavour’s good though.’

‘Great. I’ll make a note of that. Gotta impress the regulars.’

From the reddish tinge creeping up Jiwoo’s face, Heejin wondered if there was a particular regular she wanted to impress. Flicking the last crumb off her face, she took a seat in one of the flowery purple chairs, feeling slightly out of place with her leather jacket and black jeans.

‘Emo,’ said Jiwoo.

‘I’m a mercenary. I have to wear black or I draw too much attention to myself,’ said Heejin flatly.

Jiwoo laughed and sat down opposite her. ‘Ahh, this joke again. Is that why your boss is angry? Did you let your innocent victim go?’

‘Mmm. Can I get a drink while we wait for Chaewon?’

A minute later, the confectionary café was filled with the whirring sound of a milkshake machine, and Chaewon burst through the door, clouds of wavy blonde hair whipping round and round like candyfloss. Her full cheeks were flushed rosy and a wild smile lit up her eyes, excited and breathless.

‘You guys will not BELIEVE who I just met!’ she yelled, grabbing Heejin’s drink from Jiwoo’s hands and gulping at the frothy, pink milk. It took her a few seconds to recover. ‘Seunghee. _Hyun Seunghee herself._ In PARIS! HERE IN PARIS! S-she let me take a photo with her, look I’ll prove it—’

‘You didn’t know _Oh My Girl_ were in Paris?’ asked Jiwoo in genuine surprise. ‘I bought us tickets for their concert, I thought you knew—’

Chaewon’s phone fell from her hands. ‘You _WHAT?_ ’

Heejin didn’t think she’d witness Chaewon die at such a young age, but if she wasn’t mistaken, Chaewon was currently having a heart attack, whilst somehow still inhaling Heejin’s milkshake. Never mind about the drink then, Chaewon could pay for it. She felt a strange tingling sensation in her wrist. Checking her watch once more, she slowly rose. 5:42.

Heejin said, ‘I’ve got to go. Night shift.’

Chaewon raised an eyebrow, seriousness replacing her hyperactive expression. Jiwoo pouted, but gave her a cheery wave as she walked out, as fast as possible without looking like she was in a rush. The door swung shut, Jiwoo’s slightly annoyed tone floating through the keyhole:

‘—but it’s only 4:15, why does she need to leave so early…?’

Heejin’s brisk footsteps sounded like gunshots in her ears as she left behind the bright colours of the confectionary and entered a black and bleak world. _Tick tick tick._ Her watch read 5:42. It was not 5:42. And it was not the usual dull white illuminated on a black screen, it was instead a glow of red upon green.

The dark clothes came in handy now, and instead of standing out as black against a wall of pink, she blended in with the faded greys and dark purples of the city. It was daylight, yet these days, days in Paris were much darker than one would think. Strings of murders and deaths had turned a once beautiful, cultured city into one that was plastered on the front page of every newspaper along with the words: ‘ _BLANK_ FOUND DEAD’.

The trouble was, Paris was home to many wealthy aristocrats, and a large percentage of those aristocrats wanted people dead. So, unbeknownst to most, the unfortunate city now teemed with mercenaries and assassins, willing to slice any unsuspecting throat for large sums of money.

 _Everyone has to pay their bills one way or another,_ thought Heejin as the name and address finally appeared on the screen of her watch: Annie Levett. Born in Toulouse, 1994. Drummer in a band and… useless information, useless information… Lives at 75 Coquelicot Avenue. Good. By chance, that was only a few streets away.

Heejin slowed her pace a little, her movements becoming lithe and smooth, effectively drawing the attention away from her. She was melting into the shadows, and citizens bustled by without a second glance. Nobody noticed her slip black gloves onto her hands or pull a hood over her head, masking her face in shadow, in fact, nobody noticed her at all. This was the only occasion where she felt grateful to be not-quite-real, because it meant that if anyone did see her they’d likely think she was only a dream. _I am unknowable._

Her wrist prickled again, and she looked up. The sign in front of her read Coquelicot Avenue in curly, spangled lettering, and like a wraith, she sunk into the air, keeping to the side of the pavement and ducking behind bushes. She found a particularly large bush, and wincing slightly at the leaves scraping over her skin, she buried herself within it. And waited.

About half an hour passed, and the sound of clicking heels rang across the pavement. Heejin willed her body to stay stock still, muscles tensing and breathing falling almost silent. Through pinprick gaps in the leaves, she caught sight of red leather, silvery blonde hair, and black boots. She carefully moved a leaf to the side. The woman had a black bag slung across her back, and there was a logo and text on it: _Swans and Ravens._

Heejin’s eyes followed her as she opened her front door and stepped into the house, slinging her bag onto the floor in what Heejin thought was quite a half-hearted manner. Perhaps she worked long hours in an office, or perhaps she’d just come back from the gym, or perhaps…

She switched those thoughts off, almost having to slap herself. She was a target, a stranger, a sack of bones and guts that would be dead tonight. She didn’t mean anything to Heejin, because if she didn’t dehumanise her, she’d probably go insane.

She carefully pried herself from the bush and, after checking the roads were clear, sidled towards the house, pulling a black mask over her face. Being September, it was still quite light at this time of day, and she silently thanked the target for living in a quiet neighbourhood. Her eyes slid to her watch automatically. It was 5:40.

She was outside the house now, and spent about a minute trying to pick the lock with two snapped hairpins, being careful not to touch the door even with her gloved hands. The door slid open, and her hand was in her jacket pocket now, lifting a hidden flap inside the pocket. Underneath, her hand closed upon a familiar object. She was running short on time now; only one minute left. She gritted her teeth, wishing she hadn’t arrived back so late and wishing her client had chosen a later time at such short notice. But she’d seen the price flashing neon on her watch, and she’d lose a lot if she messed this one up.

Not being particularly cautious about noise now, she walked briskly down the hall to where a mop of blonde hair could be seen in the kitchen. The woman didn’t have time to turn around before gloved hands slipped round her neck and in one quick motion, sliced a thin red line across her throat. She sunk to the floor and gasped like a fish out of water, blood pouring from the precise wound. A few tense seconds passed, and she was silent. The tap was still running water, so Heejin quickly rinsed the small, surgical-like blade without touching any of the kitchen surfaces. She checked her watch, and sighed in relief. 5:42 and not a second too late.

Less than a minute later, she was out of the house without a single fingerprint left behind. Once she was far enough from the neighbourhood, she removed his gloves and mask and let the hood fall from her face. The blade was already safely in her pocket.

There was a pleasant, almost silent ‘ping’ sound from her watch, a feeling Heejin greatly preferred to the needle-like sensation her wrist received when she was called upon. The figures were gold now and read: €3000. Quite a large sum considering this woman had seemed to be nothing but a normal citizen. Her relief was mingled with a dull discomfort; she was imagining the cruel satisfaction appearing on her client’s piggy, flaccid face as they slouched in a seat of velvet and gold underneath a crystal chandelier and sent off the money without a second glance. She was so distracted for a second that she didn’t notice the person walking briskly towards her before they collided into her.

‘Ow! Ah, sorry, I didn’t see you…’ She trailed off. The woman had dark brown hair and full lips that were pursed in an expression of frustration, though for some reason Heejin didn’t feel like it was directed at her. She barely gave Heejin a glance before brushing down the black jacket she was wearing and walking swiftly past, a phone held to her ear. She could hear the remnants of a conversation as the woman disappeared into the streets.

‘—and I’ve tried to be reasonable, you know I have, Jinsoul, but if she’s so stuck in her xenophobic ways that she won’t even… I know she’s French, but we all sing in her language, why can’t she—’

Heejin walked down the path that led to her apartment. She was starting to get cold and the weather was affecting her watch, which had switched back to being normal now and currently read: 00:35. Ah yes, it was _definitely_ the middle of the night, which was why the sky was a dusky blue. Heejin sighed irritably. This happened frequently when she finished jobs, probably due to the complicated wiring inside her watch that made it… not quite a standard watch.

She was almost home when her phone buzzed in her pocket. _What now?_ she thought tiredly. She guessed the actual time was about 6:15 and she hadn’t even eaten yet, but jobs always left her feeling drained.

‘Hello?’ she said into her phone.

‘Hi, you finished yet?’ answered Chaewon’s voice on the other end.

‘Yeah. Are you still with Jiwoo?’

‘Nope, I’m home now. She gave me about twenty macarons before she let me leave, though. I don’t know how I’m going to eat them all. How was the job?’

Heejin rolled her eyes. ‘Why do you always ask that?’ She lowered her voice. ‘You know exactly how it feels to slice someone’s throat open.’

‘Wicked?’ There was an almost sadistic note in Chaewon’s voice now. It was hard to believe this was the same person who’d been fangirling over a cute Korean girl group merely hours earlier.

‘Chaewon…’

‘I’m joking, you know I am. I get it, you’re tired. It wasn’t too messy, was it?’

‘If anything, it was too easy. It kind of made me wonder what she’d done to end up on someone’s death list, she wasn’t expecting it at all.’

Chaewon’s voice was low at the other end of the receiver. ‘Try not to think about it too much. No one followed you or anything?’

‘Not that I’m aware of. I bumped into someone on the street though, and she didn’t seem happy. I don’t think it was me, though, because I heard her talking pretty angrily on the phone—’ She stopped abruptly, realisation hitting her like a slap in the face. She hadn’t realised at the time, but… ‘I… I understood her…’

‘What? What are you talking ab—’

‘She was speaking _Korean_. And I understood _every single word_ she said. I didn’t even notice, it just came naturally…’ She shook her head in disbelief, not quite sure what to make of it.

‘That’s… really weird,’ said Chaewon slowly. She paused. ‘Hey, I heard we’re all getting called in for something big next week. If I don’t see you before then—’

‘Yeah, see you soon,’ replied Heejin, automatically, not really caring about this supposedly ‘big and important’ meeting. She was at her own front door now, unlocking it with one weary hand, the other still on her phone. There was a sudden laugh on the other end. ‘What are you laughing about?’

‘You literally just did it. I told you about the meeting in Korean and you replied _in Korean_. Dude, what the _hell_? Were Jiwoo’s theories about your mysterious heritage right?’

Heejin didn’t quite know how to reply. She closed the door slowly, leaning on it as if it was the only thing tying her to normalcy. _This day has gotten weirder and weirder._ ‘I’m exhausted Chaewon, I honestly have no idea. I’ll see you soon.’

Chaewon was still chuckling. ‘You get weirder and weirder, weirdo. Byeeeeee.’

The phone bleeped, and she shoved it back into her pocket. The dark grey walls of her house gazed at her dully, and Heejin felt as if she was looking in a mirror. She was dark, and she was empty, even if neither Chaewon nor Jiwoo truly knew who she was.

The truth was, Heejin was angry. Usually she managed to hide it behind a mask of indifference and nonchalance, but she always felt it, burning inside her like hot coals. She was angry at herself, she was angry at the world, and most of all she was angry at the person who’d dreamt her into this hell. She remembered the day clearly: the day when she started to exist, sprung from a comatose dreamland into the painful jaws of reality. Suddenly she could feel, suddenly she could think, suddenly she could hear — hear the girl beside her screaming bloody murder and pounding her eardrums.

_I never asked to live._

She knew it wasn’t possible, but if she could return to that wasteland of nonexistence, she’d give her grey, fractured soul. Her life growing up since that day felt like a dream in itself. She’d been fostered, she’d gone to school, and now she was a mercenary, burdened with the heavy stains of blood on her hands and heart. It was as if she’d woken up from a _dream_ the moment she reached the age of 15, and with a sick sense of irony, realised she was nothing more than a dream. Unreal. Unfeeling. Unknowable.

And yet, something drove her to live, every time she contemplated ending her pitiful existence. Was it anger? No, it was an abstract feeling that felt foreign to her, pushing her to just get through the next day, because who knew what tomorrow would bring? Maybes she’d let a target go, or maybe she’d realise she was fluent in a foreign language, or maybe she’d fall in love.

It was a question she’d asked herself often, and a question she found herself asking yet again as she leaned against the blank walls of her house: _am I capable of love?_ She was pretty sure Chaewon had a massive crush on every member of Oh My Girl, and there was something Jiwoo had said earlier that had alerted her suspicions. But no such spark had ever warmed Heejin’s own heart.

 _What do I want?_ she thought, somewhat desperately. She almost laughed when she felt something warm trickle down her cheek. Jeon Heejin, murderer and cynic, crying because she wanted to love. To be loved.

_I want to feel awake when my eyes are open._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woop woop chapter 2! i quite like this chapter heh.  
> just wanted to say thank you so much to everyone who commented on the last chapter, i never expected it to get so many comments! everyone is so kind and it means a lot to me, so thank you. <3  
> hopefully i'll be able to update in this amount of time in the future, but i have my gcse exams in may, so things are going to get busy and i may not be able to update quickly. plus, i don't want to rush chapters for the sake of getting them uploaded on time, i think quality of writing is more important.  
> i hope this chapter is enjoyable! :D  
> -emma


	3. A Lethal Irony

‘HYUNJIN KIM!’

Hyunjin’s body was frozen still, as it was after every dream. A few seconds later and Hyunjin jolted, her fingers closing on something sharp in surprise. She hissed in pain, blinking up at the enraged face of Frau Freudenberg. To her credit, Freudenberg was speaking slowly so that Hyunjin might understand, but it was also at twice her normal volume.

‘Sleeping during rehearsals or showcases is NOT permitted, as you should already know!’ shouted Frau Freudenberg. Hyunjin could her everyone around her sniggering, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. ‘You had better start behaving like a proper student, or I expect things will not go quite so smoothly in your music career.’

Hyunjin blinked at her, more focused on the stabbing pain in her hand. ‘I need to go to the bathroom, I don’t feel well,’ she stammered. Freudenberg frowned, but Hyunjin stood up, quickly rushing to the back of the hall and through the doors. She ran through the corridor, very aware of the warm substance trickling through her fingers, and pushed the bathroom door open.

Panting, she uncurled her fingers, holding her hand over the sink. Blood blossomed from her palm, and embedded in the skin at the centre were several sharp, yellowish objects. Gritting her teeth, she pulled one out. Immediately, more blood flowed and she grabbed some tissue from next to the hand dryer, pressing it down as she examined the object she’d placed on the sink.

It was a tooth. Razor-sharp and bloodstained, and bigger than a human’s. She took a deep breath and quickly ripped the other teeth out. It was painful, and she bit back a scream, but the tissue wrapped around her hand staunched the wound.

Hyunjin picked up one of the bloody teeth. Of course she’d dreamt of night horrors in the middle of class. Very convenient. She could only thank whatever had prevented one from following her outside the dream. Yes, teeth were pretty damn painful, but if a giant monster had materialised in the recital hall, her classmates would probably be slightly horrified and _very_ dead.

She probably should’ve returned to the hall, but she decided she was too ‘ill’ to do so and traipsed upstairs to her dorm, closing the door behind her. A small sigh escaped her lips as she collapsed on the bed. Her memories of the dream were blurred, and she was grateful. Perhaps she had only been half-asleep which had dampened the horrors attacking her mind.

It could have been worse. So much worse.

***

_2 years ago_

_Hyunjin felt chills snaking up her arms, her skin rippling into tiny goosebumps. She shivered, it felt colder tonight. Usually her dreams were at a comfortable temperature, despite the fact that she was always standing in a huge icy wasteland. But tonight felt… different._

_And when her eyes found the hazy line of the horizon, she knew._

_The sky was bleeding red, flames and smoke eating at blue. It was impossible and it was possible, because it was a dream. The sky was on fire, and the ice beneath it was shining and solid. It was somewhat beautiful, a firework orgy exploding above her._

_Firework orgy. Hyunjin cursed her brain for completely disregarding the concept of ‘wrong place wrong time’ and rubbed her arms, attempting to restore some warmth in her veins._

_Her veins were the colour of spilled ink._

_She yelped, backing away as if she could back away from herself, but a second later her veins were pale blue once more. Her eyes darted around her warily, as if she could_ actually _do something to defend herself. Inside, she knew. This was a nightmare and there was no escaping it._

_The sky was red and then it was blue again. The ice splintered into spider-web fissures and something whispered to her through the cracks in a language she didn’t know._

tcktcktcktcktcktck.

_The sound rattled in her ears. There were black shapes around her, underneath her, behind her? She didn’t know. They were gone. They were there._

_‘Help me,’ she begged. Her hands were taut and purple as she wrung them, not knowing what to do. There was no one to hear her. No girl on a carousel, no trees that spoke, no animals with too many legs. There was only the whip-crack sound of flapping wings and the ragged grating of claws on frost._

_‘Manibus cedo. Oculus cedo.’_

***

_2 weeks later_

Heejin rested her elbows on the surface of the long wooden table, no mask on her face, because her face was a mask in itself. As soon as she’d stepped into the room, any life in her features disappeared, leaving only a stony grey. The rows of faces along the table mirrored hers: guarded, impassive, and controlled.

At the end of the table furthest from her, a calloused hand drummed calloused fingers on the wood, tapping a frantic rhythm. The hand led to a lean, tattooed arm which was attached to the body of a young, hollow-faced man. He raised a dark eyebrow over a dark eye and smiled dark smile, a slight tilt to his thin lips.

Adrien Couteaut leaned forward, and the room seemed to collapse in on itself despite his expression remaining the same. His eyes settled for a moment on the girl on Heejin’s left, then the girl next to her, and then Heejin herself, lingering for long enough that she’d notice but not long enough for her to feel unsettled by it.

‘It’s been a few months since I last laid eyes on you bastards,’ said Couteaut conversationally. He spoke in French — something that sounded slightly unnatural to Heejin now — and flicked a scab off his scarred hands. It landed on the eyebrow of a sullen-looking boy and the boy beside him stifled a laugh. ‘Fuck me, you look more dead-inside than before. Is murdering innocent people taking its toll?’

No one was stupid enough to reply, but a few harsher-faced people laughed, their dark eyes crinkling into black half-moons. Heejin locked eyes with Chaewon, who sat on the other side of the table a few seats away. A flicker of distaste flashed in Chaewon’s eyes, but her usually joyful expression was kept emotionless. She flicked a lock of black hair behind her ear — the blonde hidden safely beneath the seamlessly straight wig.

Couteaut continued, ‘Like, seriously, some of you have been _filthy_ recently. Jasmin — you made the front page with that ear shaving ‘accident’, and Lucas, I’m surprised you’re not wading in blood with the things you did… I’m _loving_ it.’ His smile was boyish and immature, but also feral. ‘Of course it’s all about the money, but I fucking love it when you get creative.’

_Get to the point,_ thought Heejin irritably. Couteaut loved wasting their time, and Heejin hated every second of being in that stuffy, dark room with him and the other assassins. It always smelled like death. As if he’d read her thoughts, the cold eyes of Couteaut settled on her.

‘However, I can’t help but feel like some of you are getting lazy.’ His eyes were boring into her, and many other heads swivelled round to look at her. Heejin avoided their gazes; it was common knowledge that she was the best assassin in the organisation. Couteaut drew out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, his next words muffled through the smoke. ‘Heejin. You’ve seemed quite uninspired recently. That Levett girl from last week — one slice of the throat? No rumours of a masked figure in the area? How fucking _boring_. Are you that uninspired?’

Heejin scowled. ‘I’m trying not to get _arrested._ ’

Couteaut smiled a smug smile. ‘Yet Heejin one year ago would’ve made the front pages.’ He blew out a thick grey cloud across the table. ‘I won’t lie, you’re my best, everyone knows it. And I want my best to do her best. What you need is the right motivation.’ He snapped his fingers at the rest of them, and each mercenary stood up and left. Heejin caught Chaewon’s eye, and Chaewon arched an eyebrow. The door fell shut with a clunk behind them, and then it was only Adrien Couteaut and Heejin herself in the room.

Couteaut leaned forward, clasping his scarred hands together. ‘So here’s my proposal. You’ll catch a flight to Austria in two days. Salzburg, specifically. And after a certain amount of time, you’ll bring me back the body of a Greywaren.’

‘A what?’

‘A type of thief, so to speak. I once believed it to be an object, like many did, but it is in fact a person. A very dangerous person.’ His narrow eyes were dark slits, staring at her like a shark. His immature, aggravating persona had temporarily vanished, leaving only sharpness in all senses of the word. ‘I want this person dead.’

Heejin sat back in her chair. ‘Give me the name then,’ she said dully. She wasn’t bothered about flying to a different country, in fact she’d heard Salzburg was quite interesting, but Couteaut was being deliberately mysterious. She just wanted to leave.

Couteaut grimaced. ‘There is no name.’ Heejin blinked. ‘I’m serious, I don’t know who this person is.’

‘Then how do you know—?’

‘Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.’ The wicked glint in his eye was back, and Heejin sighed.

‘So you want me to find and kill a person whose name you don’t know? Are you sure they even exist?’ she demanded.

‘Yes and yes. Did you know that _The Sound Of Music_ was filmed in Salzburg?’ Heejin got up from her chair and walked towards the door, her boots clicking sharply on the hard floor. He was still calling after her, ‘I’d bang at least three of those nuns—’

The door shut behind her as she stalked up the stairs of the large building, polished mahogany gliding underneath her hand. When she reached the first floor, the distinct stench of blood hit her nostrils once more. She frowned slightly as she watched two of the mercenaries hauling a limp, silk-clothed body into the great stone fireplace to burn. The basements of stately houses like the one she currently stood in were perfect places to meet and discuss business. The irony was that most of the houses likely belonged to previous clients, so Heejin watched with grim satisfaction as Isabelle struck a match and tossed it onto the money-laden body of some fat, old ‘Madame Peregrine’.

_An eye for an eye,_ Heejin thought. Chaewon brushed past her, subtly pressing a slip of paper through Heejin’s fingers, and Heejin nodded at the ground. With that, the two assassins pulled their hoods up, stepped through the ornate double doors and into the cold night, heading in opposite directions.

***

‘Morning, Heejin!’ greeted Jiwoo cheerily, pushing a pink fondant fancy into Heejin’s hand as she stepped into the little sweet store. A mop of fluffy blonde hair, Chaewon, bounced into view, holding three shiny slips of paper in her hand.

‘Look what came!’ she said excitedly, her eyes shining excitedly. ‘Three tickets for each of us, all thanks to Jiwoo here! We’re gonna see _Oh My Girl!_ ’

‘When’s the concert?’ inquired Heejin, sugar coating her tongue as she took a bite out of the cake.

‘In around six weeks. 28th December. I _know_ it’s around Christmas and you’re probably busy but…’

Heejin bit a chapped, seriously-in-need-of-moisture lip. ‘I’m not sure I can make it… Not because of Christmas, but depending on what happens in the next few days, I could be in Austria at that time.’

‘Austria?

‘Job stuff.’ Heejin shrugged. The bell above the door tinkled as it opened and a customer came in. ‘Do you think you could find anyone else who’d want the ticket?’

Chaewon fiddled with a loose piece of blue thread on her cardigan as the customer stood at the empty cashier, waiting patiently. ‘I could ask my older sister…’

Jiwoo interrupted, ‘More importantly, what’s so important about your job that you’d willingly miss seeing Yooa herself in the flesh? And Binnie! And Mimi! And—’

‘It’s confidential,’ sighed Heejin. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go. The flight leaves in two days, so I probably won’t be seeing you two in a while. I wish I could move the date, but I’ve been given a deadline… of sorts.’

Jiwoo shook her head. ‘Why you two take your jobs so seriously, I’ll never know… Honestly I’ll whip any clusterfuck of a recipe up these days, as long as Soo— uh, as long as most of my customers like it.’

As Jiwoo’s cheeks took on a reddish tinge, there was a polite cough. Jiwoo whipped round faster than the blade of a cake mixer, coming face to face with the two wide, inquisitive eyes of the customer. Several strands of crinkled white-blonde hair floated into Jiwoo’s face as if they were alive.

‘Uh, sorry to keep you waiting. How can I help?’

‘One _mille-feuille,_ two _pain au raisins,_ and a _Paris-brest_ please,’ said the customer in a soft voice, a strangely intense expression on her doll-like face. Heejin found her eyes following the seemingly endless waves of hair; it was mid-thigh length _with_ the curls, and she barely heard Chaewon’s whisper of ‘Stop staring at her arse, you pervert’ as she gazed at this odd customer. She was entranced by her, it was as if she carried a kind of aura or clairvoyance. An odd shiver fizzled through her bones, a feeling she hadn’t felt since…

_—stop screaming, how do I get her to stop, I’m scared, I don’t know how to make a sound, why is she making that noise, where am I, I have to leave, why are her eyes screaming_ , _what am I—_

‘You’re not going to order a single macaron? Seriously? I spent so long coming up with those new flavours!’ grumbled Jiwoo, grabbing her tongs.

‘Today isn’t the right kind of day for macarons,’ replied the customer plainly. Heejin raised an eyebrow at a sniggering Chaewon.

‘Uh-huh. Would you like these to eat in or take away?’

‘Takeaway. You’re in love.’

Jiwoo made a commendable effort not to splutter on all the desserts. The tongs fell from her hands and her face was a striking shade of magenta. ‘No I’m not! How do you kn… Oh SHIT, are you in her band? Are you one of her friends? Look, it’s technically not stalking if she said I could follow her, even if she might have meant on Twitter, and I didn’t go all the way to her house, well, not on Wednesday anyway—’

Unblinking and calmly, the customer said, ‘No. I’ve never met the person you’re talking about. But it’s hard not to note that you’re in love when your eyes are so unbelievably loud about it.’

Jiwoo made a sound that sounded something like, ‘hughehuuhegsfsgsh’ and sank behind the counter. Heejin picked up the tongs.

‘That’ll be €7.50,’ she said, biting her lip so hard she thought it might fall off. Chaewon wasn’t trying nearly as hard to hide her mirth and has collapsed into a shaking ball of fits and giggles. Once the customer had floated out the door, Heejin held out her hand, smirking. ‘You owe me €10. I knew it, I _knew_ there was a special someone Jiwoo wasn’t telling us about.’

‘I’M GOING TO RIP OUT ALL OF YOUR TEETH,’ screamed Jiwoo from behind the counter, earning several apprehensive looks from her customers. Reluctantly, Chaewon handed Heejin a crumpled €10 note.

‘Damnit Jiwoo, I’m going to go broke.’

Something that sounded inbetween a laugh and a whimper squeaked from behind the counter. Heejin felt a smile tearing her mouth open, and before she knew it they were all laughing. She gasped for breath as Chaewon rolled on the floor, and tears of mirth spilled from Jiwoo’s eyes.

‘You have so much explaining to do, Casanova,’ croaked Chaewon, hiccoughing. ‘Oh, this is going to be such a good one, I can already tell.’ Jiwoo threw a teaspoon at her and Heejin grinned.

The world felt more vibrant today.

***

The first person was running awkwardly, their feet crashing into each other and their knees buckling. With every other step, they fell slightly, as if they were limping. Their face was obscured by darkness, but as they looked up there was a flicker of the widened whites of their eyes, taut like a frightened animal. This person was afraid.

A split second passed, and they tore down a musky alleyway, tripping over the dampened ground. They doubled over, one hand pressed against the wall for support, fingers grasping at air and slipping down stone, slick with blood. Their choked, hot breaths tore through the air, but there was a small sense of relief. They were alone. No-one was following them.

Panting, the figure looked down at their stomach, pushing blood-matted hair out of their eyes. Their other hand was pressed firmly down on top of their jacket and they drew it away revealing a dark stain. The strength was leaving them as quickly as the blood was flowing from the wound and they leant back against the wall, sliding down into a sitting position. A trembling hand fumbled through their pocket, the other held firmly against their stomach once more.

A low anguished moan tore through their lips, their body shaking as if the anxiety had only just began to set in. And then they laughed. It was a cynical, humourless laugh, with undertones of distress.

‘The fucking irony,’ they whispered, still giggling hysterically, eyes glazed over. ‘Irony, irony, irony… fuck, call…’ They held a phone in their hand now, quivering fingers clumsily tapping the screen. ‘Oh god, please.’ They laughed weakly, their voice cracking and tremoring. The alley was deadly silent, so quiet that the awkwardly slapping fingers upon a phone screen could be heard clearly. Time seemed to move sluggishly, like treacle slipping from a spoon. ‘Call, call, call—’

The knife sliced through their skin like butter.

The person slumped even further down the wall, choking and gasping. Their attacker stood before them, dressed in black and their face obscured by a balaclava and hood. For a second, they merely stood, watching their victim convulse. And then they drove the knife down. Again. And again. And again.

Blood spurted in all directions, painting the wall behind a startling shade of crimson. The knife slashed forward and back, ripping through every inch of skin it could find. The attacker’s arm moved quickly and furiously, violently stabbing repeatedly, until all that remained of their victim’s torso was a tangled, scarlet mess of ribbons. The victim had screamed the entire time, but now they lay silent, face stark white and almost unmoving. Their eyes were stretched wide with shock and agony, their mouth open in a soundless, taut scream. One last breath shuddered through them, and then something glazed over their eyes. Still. And ripped to pieces, as if their body itself had been unravelled.

The attacker didn’t say a word.

In fact, they didn’t breathe at all.


	4. Heart Attack

Hyejoo’s hands were a blur of colour, moving like lightning over the fabric. The needles flashed silver like mirrors, criss-crossing over each other with light _click click clicks_. Muscles rippled underneath her hands as the fine threads interlaced, a repetitive, rapid dance performing at her fingertips.

Her hands moved with livid, strong energy — the embodiment of her personality — and they were the only part of her body teeming with that energy. Under dark lashes, her eyes were glazed with an unseeing mist, and the muscles in her face were slack, leaving her expressionless. Nothing about it was right; harsh, dark shapes were blurred and paled, vulnerable, lifeless.

Ragged breaths escaped from her lips — the only signs of awareness. Her endlessly working hands shook, beads of sweat dripping down onto the woven threads. Faster, faster, faster. _Unmaker, unmaker._

The needles clattered to the dorm floor. Hyejoo sat very still, her hands trembling from the relentless working, and her eyes were awake. The glassy sheen had dropped, and had been replaced with a fiery spark that hissed like suffocating flames.

On the floor, the needles were surrounded by lengths of coloured thread that had once been a small embroidery piece hanging above her bed, and also black threads the exact same width and length. The black threads had entwined around each other, whilst the tapestry was unwoven with every knot the black threads created.

Hyejoo had no idea where the black thread had come from. It seemed too dark, too unnaturally black, like the opposite of everything the tapestry had once been. She stayed motionless for another moment, not taking her eyes off the thread. Something snapped. In one swift motion, she grabbed the pile of string from the floor and wrenching the window open with one hand, threw the contents outside. She barely heard the light clatter of metal on the concrete below through the rushing of blood in her ears. Her hands, now curled into fists, still shook, not just from exhaustion but also from anger, and she couldn’t pull her lead-weighed feet off the ground.

There was a cold fire within her, burning with not only rage but also fear. As she realised that, it melted away with an icy chill, and she slumped back onto the bed. Something hot slipped from her nose, and she wiped it away, her hand coming back red. Her eyes were tired, but somehow her presence seemed more vivid and alive than ever.

She stood up and stalked out the door.

***

‘How’d you do on the essay, Lili?’ asked Vivi smoothly to the blonde girl. Lili turned around to check everyone in the hall was listening, almost hitting Hyunjin in the face with her shiny curls.

’38 out of 40, so a Grade 1, naturally,’ she said loudly.

Vivi nodded approvingly. ‘I just about got away with a 39, but I suspect Herr Wald favours me, so it’s more likely that I dropped a mark or two.’ She sighed in a melancholy way. Hyunjin stalked out of earshot, not wanting to hear anymore. She’d barely scraped a 4 — the minimum pass mark — and was feeling pretty pissed off about it.

Her boots clicked on the ground as she strode to her next lecture: _Analysing and Understanding Features of Popular (Pop) Music,_ but as she rounded the corner of the hall, a rough hand slammed into her chest.

‘How’d the essay go, asshole?’

Hyunjin groaned inwardly, now sprawled against the wall and facing the red-lipped smile of Hyejoo. Her dark eyes were like storm clouds, and Hyunjin knew she was in ‘one of those moods’. Great.

‘What’s got you so pissed? Did you only get a 2 instead of a 1 on your essay?’ Hyunjin regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth, but she was in a foul mood and tired of dealing with Hyejoo’s bullshit.

‘Nope. Just needed to punch something and since I hate you and you hate me, this seemed like a good option.’

‘Right.’ Hyunjin slowly got to her feet. ‘I’ll be in my next lecture then.’

‘Nah, you’ll probably be in the hospital wing.’

Hyejoo’s fist crashed into the side of Hyunjin’s face, knocking her into hard mahogany of the wall behind her. She heard the amused, mocking ‘Ooooohhh’ of nearby students. Her cheek throbbed with the emerging bruise, and Hyejoo breathed out a laugh that sounded almost relieved. It would’ve ended there if she hadn’t heard it. A faint, soft sound in the back of her mind.

_tcktcktcktcktck._

It was bad enough that had to get ripped into by the night horrors. But lucky her, she also got the privilege of being beaten up by _Salzburg Musikakademie’s_ most egotistical student. The two week old teeth scars on her palm seemed to throb with the wound in her cheek and anger flared.

‘You should _hate_ yourself,’ she found herself saying. ‘You don’t deserve to love yourself, you don’t deserve to live on.’ She stood up straighter, her hands clenching into fists. ‘You’re so conceited, you think you can just step on people and hurt them to relieve your anger. You’re worse than any night horror.’

‘The hell are you on about, Kim Hyunjin?’ laughed Hyejoo, raising a dark eyebrow. The expression on her face was twisted, as dark as a raven, and for a second Hyunjin hesitated. There was something behind her eyes that didn’t seem right. But her laugh was the same shallow and cruel laugh that felt like a slap in the face and before she knew it she was shoving Hyejoo backwards.

‘Go take your anger out on someone else,’ spat Hyunjin. Hyejoo scoffed, and a shiny black boot collided with Hyunjin’s stomach. Blood pounded in Hyunjin’s ears, a more rational part of her was screeching at her to stop and stroke a cat or something, but her fists crushed that rational part of her as well as Hyejoo’s arm against a door. Hyejoo let out a yelp that quickly turned into a snarl as she pummelled Hyunjin’s chest with her fist. Then, with a final kick to both shins, she sent Hyunjin sprawling onto the ground, and the remaining spectators jeered and whooped.

‘Go tell one of the professors if you want to get your sweet revenge,’ sneered Hyejoo, her red lipstick smeared over her chin like blood. ‘If you’re lucky, my detention might last longer than 10 minutes.’

Hyunjin got to her feet slowly. The shrieks and taunts of the students were like barbed wire twisting and scraping at her eardrums. Without a word, she walked down the corridor and down the main stairs, her stomach and limbs aching. She found the nearest exit and turned the knob, pushing the wooden door open.

The fresh air entered her lungs like an addictive drug, calming her erratic heartbeat almost immediately. She didn’t realise how terrified she’d been until the numb anger died away and her wounds throbbed with a new intensity. She walked out of the gates and onto the pavement, leaning on a hedge as she tried to stifle her tears.

Why was she incapable of accomplishing anything? A Grade 4 on her essay. Getting the shit kicked out of her by a girl one year younger than her. Supposedly, she was a powerful Greywaren who could rip objects from her mind and play God, but when Hyunjin looked in the mirror all she saw was a plain, useless girl who couldn’t even dream success into her life.

Her hands fiddled with the navy blue and white polka dotted dress, and then one hand closed on the fabric and pulled it away. There was a satisfying rip and a section of the hem was ripped away. Her fingers found the sleeve and tore that away, too. _Rip._ A lightning shaped tear appeared on the shoulder. _Rip._ Frayed cotton floated to the ground. _Rip._ Her fingers became entangled with thread.

‘Um, why are you destroying your clothes?’

Hyunjin started, her gaze flying up to meet the eyes of a girl with wavy brown hair. The girl raised a confused eyebrow at her, one of her own hands in the pocket of her vivid red and gold-buttoned jacket. She looked well-dressed, and her German was strongly accented and hesitant. Hyunjin’s eyes trailed down and, sure enough, there was a German phrasebook clutched in her other hand.

‘M-my clothes?’ stammered Hyunjin. ‘Yes. Um. That.’ Heat rose at the back of her neck. She blurted, ‘Do you ever feel like you have no purpose even though you have the potential to do anything you want and therefore you have a mild existential crisis and start feeling the need to change everything about yourself, starting with your clothes?’

The stranger blinked. But instead of walking away or calling an asylum, she slowly nodded. ‘Uh, yeah, actually. Yep. I can genuinely relate to that. I didn’t realise you spoke Korean.’

‘Kore— oh.’ Hyunjin realised she’d switched languages during her blurt, because she definitely didn’t have the German skills to say any of that. Coincidentally, the stranger had also replied in Korean. ‘I’d thought Hyejoo, Vivi and I were the only people who spoke Korean in Salzburg,’ she joked, trying to ease the weird tension between her and the girl.

‘Apparently not. Um, weird language coincidences aside, I’m sort of lost and my Google Maps is having a minor stroke. Do you know where I could find the uhh…’ She flicked through the phrasebook, and squinted at it. ‘The… Alt…Stadt Kas…erer…bräu…’

Hyunjin laughed weakly. ‘To be honest with you, I barely speak a word of German. I could ask my… acquaintance if she’s heard of it. Is it a hotel?’ The girl nodded, her pretty brown waves bouncing slightly. She reminded Hyunjin of a glass statue or a music box figurine, elegant and porcelain, but there was also an edge to her appearance, like cut glass. Hyunjin’s curiosity was heightened but she kept her voice casual as she asked, ‘I could try and help you find it if you like. I’m not really in the mood for school anymore.’

The girl’s eyes flitted to the building behind Hyunjin and then to her bruised face. ‘It looks… prestigious. But considering your bloody appearance the students there can’t be very disciplined.’

Hyunjin let out a dry laugh. She liked this girl’s bluntness. ‘Yes and no. At the school I like to think of myself as a caged canary within a flock of ravens.’

‘Prestigious, rich ravens?’

‘Yes, although I’m not sure how birds of that size can carry that amount of money. I guess anything’s possible.’

The girl smiled, and soon they were walking along the winding pavement of the old town. The girl introduced herself as Heejin. Hyunjin’s boots clicked on the cobbled streets and the colour beige surrounded them in the form of old houses and shops. The old town seemed rich with history and culture, beautiful buildings and patches of green trees dotted around the area. They passed the _Kapitalplatz_ Square which was teeming with tourists and camera flashes. A horse trotted by, pulling a wooden cart full of excitable children and determinedly patient adults.

‘God, I feel like I’m in a musical,’ muttered Heejin, eyeing the squealing children.

‘It’s almost too perfect,’ Hyunjin agreed. There was an idyllic, dreamlike quality to the old town that almost reminded Hyunjin of Cabeswater. Perhaps that was what had drawn her to this place.

‘Ah, I think that’s it!’ Heejin exclaimed in relief. She gestured to a tall, yellow building situated in a slightly quieter area of the town. ‘I guess I’ll say goodbye here, then. Thanks for saving my arse, Hyunjin.’

‘ _Arsch.’_

‘Excuse me?’

‘It’s German for arse. Might come in useful.’

Heejin laughed, and Hyunjin felt a twinge of disappointment that she hadn’t been able to get to know the girl more. ‘I’ll remember that one.’

Hyunjin said, ‘If you ever get lost again, well, you know where to find me.’

An unreadable expression passed over Heejin’s face, a tiny crease between her brows. ‘You probably won’t see me around. You know, work and stuff.’

‘Oh. Okay. Well, um, nice meeting you, Heejin.’

As the strange girl turned away, all Hyunjin could think was that she looked too young to have a serious job.

 ***

The sound of a tinkling bell rang in Jiwoo’s ears, and she looked up frantically for about the eighth time in the last ten minutes. Unsurprisingly, a stranger entered, but she couldn’t keep her shoulders from slumping.

‘She hasn’t been here in over two weeks,’ she complained to Chaewon, who seemed to be ignoring her love-struck state. ‘She used to come every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday… it’s Sunday today and she hasn’t turned up... What if she hates the new macarons? What if—’ She stopped reluctantly to address the boring customer, failing to hide the disappointment in her voice. Barely paying attention to what he was ordering, she mumbled the price and shoved the takeaway bag into his hands.

Heejin and Chaewon’s reactions had been more sympathetic than she’d expected, at least they were once she’d explained her concern for her crush. Jiwoo could joke about the macarons, but inside she was scared. Maybe it was only a crush, but if anything bad had happened to Ha Sooyoung, she wasn’t sure if her lovesick little heart could handle it.

‘If you know where she lives, why don’t you go and find her?’ suggested Chaewon, her eyes appearing from under a few limp strands of pale hair. ‘You’d regret it if you’d never even spoken to her properly.’

Jiwoo let out a frustrated noise, running her hands through her hair. ‘I know.’ _I know. But I’m afraid of what I’ll find there. And I’m afraid of what she’ll think of me._

‘Who are you and what have you done with Jiwoo?’ There was a faded smirk playing on Chaewon’s face, and it wasn’t very encouraging. ‘What’s knocked your confidence?’

‘We don’t have much in common,’ admitted Jiwoo. ‘From what I know of her, she’s all leather-jacket-cool-dude and plays bass in a band. And she dances.’ Jiwoo slumped onto the counter sulkily. ‘ _And_ she rollerskates.’

‘So why does she come to your shop three times a week?’

‘Jesus, Chaewon, I don’t know! It’s frilly and sweet and girly and ME. I’m everything she’s not and I just want to be like her.’ _I want her to like me._

‘I’ll come with you?’ offered Chaewon. ‘I feel sort of tired. I think it’d be better if we both got some fresh air.’

Jiwoo fiddled with a fork, wondering if it would hurt less to plunge it into her own heart. Sooyoung’s smiling face was stark in her mind as if it had been printed there with permanent ink. Whatever happened, her face always be there. Maybe seeing her would brighten Jiwoo’s lousy mood. She groaned as she found herself standing up. Damn her desperate heart.

‘Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll go now,’ she announced. Chaewon raised her eyebrows but stood up to join her and Jiwoo forced a falsely cheery smile onto her face. ‘Shop’s closed everyone! I’m going out for the rest of the day, so finish your cakes and feel free to tip. I’ve got a heart to attack!’ She didn’t mention that the heart in question was probably her own as she waltzed to the door, flipping the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’. She added, ‘And put a scarf on, Chaewon, it feels weirdly cold at the moment.’

***

Hyunjin thought her ears might fall off from the amount of screeching she’d just been subjected to. Okay, she skipped a class, okay, she left the school grounds, but every time she tried to explain how Hyejoo had beaten her to a pulp, the professor she was speaking to became mysteriously hard of hearing.

The rest of the working day went by in a blur, she spent some free time practising her parts in the sonatine, and when she could finally relax she practically threw herself onto her bed, not knowing or caring if anyone else was in the room. It was unlikely, Vivi was probably at a modelling shoot, and Hyejoo would be harassing students with the other bastards.

So when Hyunjin started to dream, she wasn’t particularly concerned about what she would take out.

Cabeswater flickered into existence, flurrying flakes of snow drifting over the icy ground. The distant mountains were obscured by a frosty mist that ghosted across the surface of the aeroplane wreck. Hyunjin wandered towards the cluster of metal and rocks, the cool breeze tapping at her skin.

Voices fluttered in and out of her ears, incoherent murmurs and whispers. A rumble echoed in the distance, like the stuttering engine of a car. She looked around warily, trying to match the sounds to visuals. But there was nothing on the desolate landscape that resembled a car.

Unless.

She swung round, and there it was, stark and vibrant against the rusty white of the plane. Blood, seeping into the ice. Blood, forming a series of repeated words on the wrecked metal.

_MURDERED MURDERED MURDERED MURDERED MURDERED_

The voices were louder, hissing and grating against her eardrums. Her heart hammered in her chest, everything felt twisted, wrong. Was it a nightmare? Where were the night horrors?

There was a sharp cry, one that a bird might make. For a second, she panicked, thinking: _raven._ But this was the shriller, more piercing call of a much smaller bird. Her eyes darted across the ice and the air, and at first she almost didn’t see it. It was small and as white as the frozen ground, and it dipped up and down in the air with a sense of urgency.

And there was a girl.

She lay on the floor and then she stood and then she was gone.

The bird remained, swooping closer to Hyunjin. It was a dove, soft white feathers rippling in the breeze. Its beak opened, and a voice resounded from it:

_Don’t let them in._

It spoke in Latin, and somehow, she understood it. Wind rocketed around her, its turbulence knocking her balance. The dove issued a sharp cry, and she realised it was too late. A slash of cold and hot stung her arm, and then her leg, and then her side. She screamed, the pain sizzling on her skin as blood ran in rivers down her skin.

_tcktcktcktck_

Her knees buckled, but she swiped furiously at the air, trying to grab the dove before the night horrors attacked it, too. The bird was scared, it wove in and out of her grip.

‘Please, I need to get you out of here,’ she said desperately. It didn’t hear her. The horrors scratched at her with razor-like claws, but she kept limping, closer to the plane wreck, to some form of shelter. The dove seemed impossible to hold, as if it were made of slippery silk. A sudden realisation dawned on her: she never controlled what she took from her dreams.

She was a thief, but she didn’t choose what to steal.

_Help me, Cabeswater._

The wasteland was silent and unmoving, as unalive as it always was. What had happened? How had Cabeswater been silenced and subdued? She begged again and nothing came to her aid. Nothing, nothing, until...

The dream changed. The ice cracked, and she was plunged into the freezing depths. On instinct, her eyelids slammed shut and she held her ragged breath. Several things spun past her, and she flailed, kicking, squirming—

‘Fucking shit.’

Hyunjin was lying down, her limbs stinging and her hands clutching something cold and slippery. A clock was ticking, counting the frighteningly long time before her body was allowed to respond again. The shadow of a breath escaped her lips, and then she was spluttering, her eyes snapping open as icy water tumbled from her lips. Once she’d finished coughing, she slumped back down, shivering and soaked to the bone. Her skin still throbbed as water dripped onto the bloody cuts, and the thing in her hand squirmed. Alarmed, she unclenched her fist to reveal the shimmering scales of a goldfish that flopped feebly against her palm. And then her eyes travelled up.

Vivi and Hyejoo were standing over her bed.

***

Anticipation and nerves were dancing a frantic samba in Jiwoo’s chest as she and Chaewon stood at the door of her crush’s house. The walk hadn’t been long and the two of them had been uncharacteristically quiet, not speaking a word. Jiwoo hadn’t been able to think of words in her tense state, but now an entire encyclopaedia was threatening to spill from her mouth, an ‘effective’ way of delaying the inevitable confrontation.

‘I didn’t actually get her address by following her,’ she blurted, twisting her hands and swaying from foot to foot. ‘Okay, maybe I followed her a few times. She told me she was scared of the dark, so I thought… Anyway. She told me her address because she wanted some cakes delivered there. I’m not _that_ weird, you know, I ju—’

‘Just knock on the damn door.’

Jiwoo made a strange squeaky sound and raised her trembling fist. Apprehension weighing on her like a tonne of rocks, she quickly tapped her fist on the door and waited. And waited.

‘The lights are out,’ murmured Chaewon, pointing to a window. ‘I don’t think she’s home.’

Despite her anxiety, Jiwoo felt deflated. _It would’ve been nice to see that smile._ Her disappointment turned to worry rapidly. What if something had happened? Where would she go…? A sudden thought flashed in her mind.

‘The roller disco and bowling alley,’ she exclaimed, a smile lighting up her face. ‘She often plays gigs there with her band or dances in the roller disco. Actually, I reckon she spends more time there than in her own home. She has to be there!’ Jiwoo could hear the sickening hopefulness in her own voice, but she had to go. _She’ll be okay she’ll be okay she’ll be okay._

Chaewon nodded, and about an hour later, they arrived at the roller disco, rain-sodden from the unlucky downpour that had hit them mid-journey. The building was tall and modern with large neon letters glowing at the entrance: _Toute Ma Vie._

A snooty receptionist regarded them dully as they paid for their rollerskates and entered the spacious hall. Its floor was smooth and shining, and bright coloured lights glittered on its mirror-like surface, projected from the towering ceiling. The buzz of electronic music thrummed in the air, and several figures flashed past, spinning and gliding in time with the music. It was like another world, despite the exploding bass, eyes were closed and lips were parted; there was a sense of peace.

‘There,’ said Jiwoo softly, suddenly feeling very shy. She pointed to a lean figure rollerblading in the far corner, alone and graceful. She seemed detached from the other skaters; her brown hair billowing behind her like the wings of a bird. Her movements were flowing and free, yet there was an aura of melancholy with each step. Jiwoo found herself moving towards her without realising, her nerves momentarily forgotten and her eyes transfixed on the girl, who kept skating, unaware of the little shadow edging towards her. ‘Hi, Sooyoung.’

Sooyoung skidded to a halt, blinking in surprise. ‘Jiwoo? What are you doing here?’

‘Um. I… well you hadn’t come round the shop in a while and I’m not busy today so… I knew you like rollerblading,’ she said, slightly lamely. Her fingers wound themselves around each other. ‘Is your band playing here tonight?’

Sooyoung’s face immediately darkened, like black paint spilling onto a blank canvas. Grief ghosted over her face in flickering shadows. ‘You didn’t see the newspapers.’ Jiwoo shook her head. Sooyoung’s full lips trembled but she took a deep breath. ‘2 weeks ago, our drummer… Annie, Annie Levett, was m-murdered in her own home. It was a shock, for the whole band. But I think I felt the most awful. We’d been arguing on that same day… it all feels so stupid now.’

Jiwoo’s mouth fell open, apologetic murmurs dying in her throat. Unbeknownst to her, Chaewon’s crumpled form seemed to dissipate into the air between them, her face pale like feathers of a barn owl. Jiwoo’s hand ached to take hold of Sooyoung’s, but the moment blinked out like a candle and the dancer held her swan-like neck high once more.

Sooyoung said gently, ‘Please don’t apologise, you didn’t know.’ It was as if she was comforting Jiwoo instead of the other way around. Her small smile was polite, she was speaking to an acquaintance after all. _But you’re so much more than that to me._

‘No, I shouldn’t be bothering you,’ replied Jiwoo, ashamed. She tried for a smile, failing noticeably. ‘You want to be alone, so don’t worry, we won’t stay.’ She turned to leave, the pulsing music making her head throb.

‘I’ve still been buying your cakes.’

Jiwoo’s head whipped round. Sooyoung was remained standing still, a twinkle in her eye, a spark amidst the grey misery on her face. Upon seeing Jiwoo’s confusion, she explained, ‘I asked my friend, Jinsoul, to buy some for me. You probably remember her, she’s blonde, doll-faced… pretty good at reading people, seeing as she’s a psychic.’

 _You’re in love._ Oh. OH.

The reddening tinge crept up Jiwoo’s face felt like tendrils of fire on her skin. She let out a would-be-casual laugh that sounded more like she was choking.

‘Oh, uh, yeah, I think I remember her.’ Jiwoo could almost hear Heejin laughing at her all the way in Salzburg. ‘She didn’t buy my macarons.’

Sooyoung thought for a moment. She said, ‘They’re chewy. Uh, no offence.’

‘I’ve got to perfect that recipe,’ groaned Jiwoo, smacking her palm on her forehead. Sooyoung laughed, and Jiwoo thought it was the happiest sound she’d ever heard. She held the wall to stop herself from falling over and grinned sheepishly. ‘Well, um, see you around, Sooyoung.’

‘I’ll come back to the shop, I promise. Wouldn’t want to miss out on my favourite cakes again.’ Her eyebrows furrowed slightly. ‘Watch yourself on the way home. I heard there was another murder in the area a few days ago.’

‘I’ll be careful,’ promised Jiwoo. But as she left, all she saw was Sooyoung’s pained expression. Losing a friend was something Jiwoo could never imagine, it didn’t seem possible. To have someone always at your side… and suddenly never see them again. Her hand clenched into a fist. Who had done this? Why did Sooyoung deserve to lose someone?

She walked along the pavement, feeling weirdly alone, despite that she was sure Chaewon was at her side. The world looked blacker than it had yesterday. A strange thought occurred to her, one that never had before. She suddenly felt as if she’d been living in a pink, lush bubble for her entire life. The real world was dark and painful, but nobody deserved to get hurt.

It took her a moment to realise that she was angry. All she wanted to do was make people happy with her stupid cakes, but what if one of the customers had been a killer? She’d always felt as if she knew her customers, but what if cutting into a fondant fancy was only a substitute for cutting into flesh?

No. That wouldn’t happen. She’d avenge Sooyoung, she’d force this bleak world into her pink bubble and seal it with cement.

She would find out who killed Annie Levett.


	5. Unravelled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this chapter is pretty damn gory. if you're sensitive to gore, please don't read!   
> i also apologise for the long wait, i'm currently doing my GCSEs (for all you non-brits: very important big exams wooo) so i haven't had much time to write/upload. hopefully the next chapter will be up much sooner, depending on how much revision i have to do. :D thanks for the patience!

‘In here.’

Hyunjin pulled her bedside drawer open, revealing the accumulation of objects inside. The air around the three of them was thick with silence. Hyejoo reached inside, her fingers closing on a woollen jumper. She held it uncharacteristically gently, her fingers running over the fabric almost rhythmically.

Hyejoo asked quietly, ‘What colour is this jumper?’

‘It isn’t. A colour, I mean.’ The jumper was stitched like any other item of clothing, but it wasn’t red, blue, or yellow. It was something else. ‘That colour doesn’t exist in reality.’

It sounded like madness, but Hyejoo and Vivi could see it with their own eyes. Everything in the drawer was solid, real, existing. But it didn’t make logical sense.

Vivi swallowed. ‘So you’re a…’

‘Greywaren.’

‘A Greywaren, yes. But your dreams hurt you. Is that the cost for creating something?’

Hyunjin picked at a plaster on her arm (she’d tended to her wounds and changed into dry clothes) and thought for a moment. ‘I don’t create. I steal. Take. I wake up with a random item from the dream in my hand. I can’t control what I dream about, and I, like everyone, have nightmares. The only difference is that my nightmares really do affect me physically.’

‘Do you get recurring dreams?’

Hyunjin remembered the girl on the carousel. ‘Not often. But yes. Aside from the returning setting, my dreams work like anyone else’s.’

Hyejoo set the jumper down and leaned forward. There was an odd gleam in her eye. ‘If your dreams work like anyone’s, then couldn’t you learn to lucid dream? You know, control what happens in your dreams. You said you have no control, but what if you did?’

Despite herself, Hyunjin’s interest was piqued. Control meant no night horrors. Control meant anything could materialise. Control meant she could do _anything_.

‘Stop it.’ Vivi’s voice shook. ‘Don’t plant ideas like that in her head. As far as I can perceive, this is a dangerous power, not a toy to be wound up and played with.’

Hyejoo continued, ‘You could create instead of steal. Make the world your own. It’s your own mind, isn’t it? You could mock gods, destroy reality, make your dreams _real_. Hell, I bet you could create a sun in the palm of your hand.’

Vivi stared at Hyejoo incredulously. ‘We just watched our roommate’s arms tear themselves to ribbons, we watched her drowning in thin air, we watched a fish materialise out of _nothing_ and die in the palm of her hand. She could have _died_ and you want her to become consumed by her dreams?’

‘She’s wasting her power,’ snarled Hyejoo. ‘God, if I had this ability, I’d… fuck, at least I’d be _free._ ’

‘This power isn’t yours, don’t tell her how to use it. It’s unnatural, it’s _wrong._ ’

Hyunjin bristled, about to give Vivi her own thoughts, but Hyejoo’s scornful remarks drowned out her own.

‘You don’t know _anything_ about natural and unnatural. You’re a pathetic princess with her own god-complex, you just can’t stand that Hyunjin actually has something that _you_ don’t.’

‘Maybe I care—’

Hyejoo laughed humourlessly. ‘Oh, don’t pretend, just because she’s standing here. You don’t give a shit about Hyunjin. What, she’s suddenly your best friend because she almost bled to death on a bed?’

Vivi’s face paled like a sheet. Without another word, she stormed from the room. Hyejoo scoffed, but there was the hint of a sob coming from the staircase. Before Hyunjin could react, hands grabbed her shoulders, pulling her face to face with dark eyes.

The look on Hyejoo’s face was almost desperate. ‘I need to know more,’ she growled. ‘Tell me everything.’

***

It was the same thing again.

Blood on a bed, blood running down skin, blood pooling on the floor.

At least in the dark, she couldn’t see the shadows of the nightmare, clawing and screaming at her. Vivi couldn’t stop shivering, each breath unsteady and hoarse. Thick streaks of mascara were congealed on her cheeks, her lips dry and sore. She wasn’t quite sure how long she’d been sitting on the cold floor of the cleaning cupboard, her ears pounded with blood ticking like a clock, isolating her from the reality of time.

_Compose yourself,_ she thought furiously, no musician pun intended. Fear was a rabid animal, tearing her sanity apart thread by thread by thread. She felt unwoven, and it unsettled her, mainly because of how _unprofessional_ it was. She simply couldn’t afford to collapse or hyperventilate during a photoshoot or in the middle of a solo recital. She had to harden her flimsy, penetrable skin, and subsequently harden her mind.

She knew exactly what she wanted, and she knew exactly how to get it. She was going to achieve everything she strived for, there was no other option. Trauma be damned.

But as she attempted to stand, her knees buckled with the brittleness of glass, and she collapsed back onto the floor.

And despite the darkness, the nightmare clawed its way through.

All she saw was blood.

***

_Pointless, pointless, pointless._

The voice chanted the same words in the black chasm of her mind, and she could no longer tell if the voice was the unmaker’s or her own. Her rapid heartbeat was screaming terror, but the fear was blotted out by a mindless drive to find out _what the hell was wrong with her._

The library was quiet, naturally, and Hyejoo’s ragged breaths were grating and loud amongst the silence. She yanked a book from a shelf. _Pointless._ Hyunjin’s explanation had been pointless. Hyejoo understood nothing.

When she’d first laid eyes on the bloody form of Hyunjin on the bed, the glee that had possessed her was indescribable. _Finally._ There was someone like her. There was a darkness outside of her own body. She’d trembled, not from horror, but from pure anticipation. She had no idea what was wrong with Hyunjin, but it had to be linked to her. It had to save her.

_Pointless._ Hyunjin barely had a clue about her own powers, and she mentioned no demon. The closest thing was the ‘night horrors’ she’d spoke of, but even then, they weren’t of the same substance as the monstrosity inhabiting Hyejoo’s mind. They were not alike.

She tossed aside _Daemonologie_ and tore through the pages of another dust-coated novel. Every book she picked up contained nothing but religious bullshit and fairy tales. There was nothing about a demon — if she could even call it that, the word sounded too tame — that unravelled reality or leeched her soul into a shrivelled husk.

_Malleus Maleficarum_ fell to the floor with a resounding thud, and her hands were not her own. Each nerve and muscle had been snapped into place and loosened, flexible enough to be manipulated. Her face slackened to a blank slate, concealing her unrelenting terror.

Her breaths quietened to match the shivering silence in the library, and with soundless motions, her hands picked up the book once more. A cold and sickly sensation rippled through her limbs and into the air, and in her hands the book disintegrated into a tangle of black threads.

It had been unmade, just like the tapestry. Within the threads lay shards of leather and paper — the bloody remains of the novel. Black ink lazily trickled into the carpet.

The unmaker retreated to a small corner in her head and the weight tumbled from her shoulders, landing in a pit in her stomach as horror dawned on her. The hush of the library only emphasised the disarrayed noises coming from her throat and her hysterical shuddering. _Leave, run, hide._ But her body wouldn’t move. The demon was dormant, but she couldn’t lift a finger. Perhaps fear was a stronger enemy.

More than anything, she wanted to curl into a ball and sob like an inconsolable child, but it was as if her tears were frozen. Her body allowed her to lean back slightly, so that she was resting on the hard wood of a shelf, the tiniest comfort.

Everything seemed to collide at once. She’d been haunted by this creature for months now, but the realisation of it hadn’t sunk in. Naturally, upon learning she was possessed by a demon, she’d done the most Hyejoo thing possible and ignored it. But it didn’t want to be ignored. There was something rotten and nauseating inside of her, black and bleak like an ocean of disease.

She shivered against the wood. The message was clear: I will destroy any means of escape. I will raze any form of research. And I will obliterate everything you hold dear.

It seemed strange, to think that back then she’d believed it was a gift.

Betrayal was becoming a close friend.

***

Heejin decided that she loved Salzburg.

Once she’d manoeuvred her way out of the tourist-infested parts, she found the city to be quite pleasant, particularly the quieter parts of the old town. It was so much more than cobbled streets and a clock tower; it was alleyways of tiny shops and sepia streetlights and brightly painted houses and flower markets. It was everything Heejin was not, and she wondered if her grey presence alone was sucking the life from the city.

It didn’t seem so, however, because every person that walked past had a spark or shine of life. The city was so wonderfully _alive_ that Heejin had half a mind to discard her executioner’s mission and spend the rest of her days frolicking in flowery skirts and singing about drops of golden sun and drinks with jam and bread.

But her current occupation had pretty good pay. Plus, she didn’t exactly have a choice.

Currently, she sat at a small table in a library in the town, bookshelves stretching in long lines in front, behind, and next to her. Several books were stacked on the table and one was in her hand. Her eyes drifted over the pages lazily, searching for an inkling of information regarding Greywarens, whatever they were. If the librarian was concerned at the amount of thievery books Heejin was reading, she didn’t show it.

So far, Heejin had discovered a large amount of nothing whatsoever (it didn’t help that there were barely any Korean or French books or translations), so she decided a break had been earned. Yawning, she wandered to the entrance and stepped outside into the fresh air. A thought occurred to her: she hadn’t called Jiwoo or Chaewon yet. Pulling out her phone, she dialled Chaewon’s number. As it rang, she felt an odd chill pass over her, yet she didn’t feel cold. She glanced around, and then Chaewon’s voice piped up from the speakers.

‘Heejin?’

‘Hi, Chaewon.

‘How’s Salzburg?’ Chaewon sounded disinterested.

‘Oh, nothing special. Acid rain, and I’ve been buried underground by an earthquake. _And_ I’ve got frostbite. The souvenir shops aren’t too tacky, though.’

Oddly, instead of a spirited laugh, Heejin heard only silence. She coughed and awkwardly changed the subject. ‘I haven’t had any luck with the Greywaren yet. There’s not a single word about them in any of the books I’ve looked at.’

‘Have you tried Google?’ suggested Chaewon dryly.

Heejin rolled her eyes, but was secretly relieved at the usual humour. ‘It’s the 21st century, that’s the first thing I tried. Nothing.’

‘I met Jiwoo’s crush,’ said Chaewon slowly, her tone odd. ‘She seemed nice, but it was a bad time. One of her band members had been murdered.’

‘Murdered?’ Heejin frowned. ‘Was it one of ours?’

‘You tell me. Her name was Annie Levett.’

Heejin’s blood ran cold. _Shit._ Guilt wasn’t usually an antagonist she faced in her job, due to years of blocking it out. But although the scenic view of Salzburg lay before her, all she could see was Jiwoo’s eager, smiling face.

‘God. I…’ Heejin slapped a hand on her forehead, groaning. ‘Of all the bad luck…’

‘I’m just warning you,’ said Chaewon tiredly. ‘It’s unlikely that they’ll trace it back to you, but don’t let anything slip once you’re back in Paris. I just think Jiwoo deserves… a bit of happiness… or…’ She trailed off. Heejin cleared her throat, but there was only the crackling, fuzzy noise of the phone signal. Perhaps Chaewon was just fatigued.

‘Well, I’ll call you again soon. See you.’

Chaewon’s voice was muffled and soft. ‘Bye.’

Heejin hung up, her heart as heavy as a tonne of bricks. It was as if everything had collapsed after she left Paris. Her normally hyperactive friend was unfriendly and reclusive, and she’d killed her friend’s crush’s friend. Not a normal sentence. Then again, she didn’t live a normal life.

Her fingers hovered over Jiwoo’s contact name on her phone. _Call her._ But how could she? How could she lie to her best friend’s face?

_The same way you’ve lied to her for years._

A sickening feeling was building in her stomach. It was too easy to forget that her and Jiwoo’s friendship was built entirely on lies. Jiwoo trusted her, but she should’ve been holding a gun to her head. Everyone she passed in the streets should’ve shoved her, punched her, or called the police. She was ruthless and cold. She didn’t enjoy killing, but she did it all the same, because if she quit she was as dead as her victims. But her reasoning made no difference.

Not for the first time in her life, she began to doubt. Her fantasy of dropping the case and living an apple-pie-life in Salzburg suddenly didn’t seem too unrealistic. Almost trembling, Heejin looked up from her phone and stared into the gaping blackness of a hooded figure.

She jumped back, pulse quickening. The figure was a few yards away, standing under the shade of a tree. Their face was a shadow, darkened and hidden by the black hood of their coat. Heejin’s eyes darted around, but everyone else on the street was striding past, seemingly oblivious.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away, an uneasy sensation creeping over her skin like spiders. The figure merely stood, unmoving and unresponsive. If Heejin was closer, she wouldn’t have been surprised if they weren’t breathing.

A blink, and the figure was gone. Heejin shook her head, wondering if she was hallucinating. Perhaps her falsely created life was finally being torn away, perhaps she was being dragged back into the shadows of nothingness. _Do it. I do not belong._

Yet, her fear wouldn’t leave, trapping her in its tough, unbreakable web. She shivered and went to head back to the library, seeking refuge in the fort of boring, uninformative books. If the hooded figure appeared again, then she’d cut them down.

Maybe there were perks to being a mercenary after all.

***

_Unmake. Undo. Unstitch. Unravel._

Hyejoo’s consciousness was a crumbling cliff edge, and she was slipping, tumbling over the dissolving brink. In and out of awareness she surged. Usually, the world was her prey; she was a raven, a wolf, ripping through the hearts of her peers. She’d been let down already, so why not drag the whole world down with her? But now, she was a hollow, tortured creature, unable to lift a finger against the darkness flooding her.

Through eyes like a shattered window, she saw bodies on the floor, guts and grime coating the remainder of their skin. It was as if their bones had been rammed into a paper shredder, followed by their insides. And it was her own hand that was stained with the unravelled threads of flesh.

_Nobody. Nobody is here to stop it._

Stop what? Despair clung to her decaying soul. She was barely aware of what she was thinking. She could just about comprehend that they — she and the demon — were still in the library, and everyone was dead. The demon had unmade them, and it was an ugly stain in this building of knowledge.

She blacked out once more, and was thrust back into consciousness, sobbing and shaking. _Save me, Greywaren. Dream me a place to run. Help me, Hyunjin._ In any other scenario, Hyejoo would’ve been disgusted at her pleas. Son Hyejoo did not beg. She did not owe anyone, and she did not let anyone see through the cracks in her wall.

But Son Hyejoo was entirely, utterly helpless.

_There is nobody to save you._

As the vines of death climbed her throat, she knew it was over. Darkness billowed like smoke up into her mouth and windpipe, she dry-heaved, clawing at herself with hands that did not belong to her anymore. Pain stung sharply at her throat, and her unfocused eyes gazed down at the thin red line beginning to form. Agony tore at her mouth, her cheeks, as if the thing inside her had climbed up to rip her head in half.

She retched, repulsed by the claws cleaving through her flesh. The pain was slow and agonising, as if each individual cell was being unstitched. The breath was running out of her, and she wondered what would kill her first: the pain or the developing wound across her throat.

_Why are you killing me? What will happen to you when I die?_

The thing pulsed and surged like a heartbeat. She wondered if it was smiling.

_I do not need to consume every fly that I catch. My web is teeming with them. And I am not alone._

Hyejoo was too feverish and absent to understand the words, despite the thrill of horror that rushed through her. Strange flashes sped past her eyes. They seemed familiar. She couldn’t see them, but she felt the emotions that came with them.

_Love. Pride. Betrayal. Grief. Anger. Arrogance. Apathy._

Was that it? Was her life a cycle of seven emotions, going around and around and around? She’d been so close to love, not loving another person, but a different kind of love. A love that only benefitted her. And here she was now, crashing back down to betrayal and grief.

She closed her eyes, the sides of her face aching and burning. Tears streamed down like gushing rivers, hot against her screaming skin.

The sound of a knife whistling through the air blew her eyelids open again.

The agony was still piercing her skin, but through blurry vision she saw the silhouette of a girl. Alive. The darkness was no longer tearing at her. _Have I been saved?_ Despite the blood leaking from her and the misery embracing her, she smiled.

And the last thing she saw before she blacked out was the girl’s look of revulsion and terror.


	6. The Smile of a Wolf

Sweat rolled down Heejin’s forehead in rivulets and she gasped and heaved, but her legs tore the pavement up as she ran to the only place she knew to go to. The weight of the girl in her arms was exhausting to carry, but she gritted her teeth, not allowing herself to slow.

It felt peculiar to be saving a life instead of taking it.

Drizzles of November rain splashed onto the pavement — she felt grateful that her shoes had a good grip. The girl’s face — Heejin didn’t want to look at that horrific face for too long — was pained, but she was unconscious. Her dark eyelashes fluttered, and Heejin could feel the weak pulse flitting in her wrist.

Who had done this? When Heejin had arrived, the girl had been clawing at nothing, convulsing on the ground. There had been no attacker in sight, yet mangled bodies had littered the library floor. Her thoughts wound back to the figure in black. They certainly fit the cliché of a serial killer, dressed in black from head to toe and staring eerily at passers-by. Plus, they’d been near to the library, near enough to go round the back before Heejin got there. But that didn’t explain why there’d been no struggle when she arrived. It took more than minutes to massacre an entire library full of people. And why was the girl alive? Had the killer heard she was coming? But if it could kill dozens of people in seconds, why hadn’t it merely killed her?

Heejin shook her head, forcing the questions out of her mind. What mattered now was getting this stranger to safety. On the girl’s bloodied jacket Heejin had noticed a badge reading _‘Salzburg Musikakademie’,_ and thanks to yesterday, she knew exactly where that was. So now she ran, hoping that the polka-dot dress girl would be there and hopefully that she wouldn’t scream at the sight of the blood-soaked Heejin.

She rounded a corner, and the ornate black fence came into view. She stopped and gently set the girl down by a bush, concealing her unconscious body behind the leaves. Wasting no time, Heejin rushed through the doors of the building and into some sort of reception.

‘ _Guten Tag,’_ greeted the receptionist. Heejin stared blankly, trying to recall the fragments of German that she knew.

‘Uhh, _hilfe? Ich…_ ummm…’ She cursed under her breath, eventually settling for French and hoping that the receptionist at least knew some of the language. ‘I’m a friend of Hyunjin’s. She’s a student here, I believe. She’s Korean. I need her.’

Luckily, the receptionist seemed to understand, nodding curtly. She typed something on the computer and Heejin wanted to yell at her to _hurry up._ She wasn’t really paying attention, her mind on the girl outside, but soon enough Hyunjin came down the stairs looking slightly bemused.

‘Oh… Heejin, right?’

‘Can we talk outside?’ Heejin tried to conceal the urgency in her voice from the evidently eavesdropping receptionist, but hoping that Hyunjin understood from her eyes. Hyunjin nodded, frowning confusedly, but followed her out. As soon as they were outside, Heejin rushed to the bush behind which the girl was concealed.

‘Is everything okay? Wh—’ Hyunjin broke off at the sight of the bloodied body of the girl, her eyes widening.

‘I found her in the library like this. She wore a badge with the name of this school, so I figured…’

Hyunjin gasped, ‘Hyejoo?’

‘You know her?’

‘She’s my roommate,’ murmured Hyunjin, her body trembling. ‘But… how… what happened to her _face?_ ’

Heejin swallowed uncomfortably. Even the most ruthless assassins she knew hadn’t done anything like this. There was a shallow cut along her throat, but the most disturbing thing was her mutilated face. The girl — Hyejoo — was… smiling. Sort of. An eerie grin was forcibly sliced across her face, thin and red, almost carefully done. It was as if a knife had been placed in each corner of her mouth and flicked up, carving a bloody smile onto her face permanently.

‘Dream.’ The distorted word came from Hyejoo’s crimson lips, muttered thickly through bubbles of blood. Her eyes rolled under her eyelids. She was likely hallucinating.

‘What does that—’

‘You need to leave. Thank you for bringing her, I’ll take her inside now.’

Heejin drew back at Hyunjin’s tone. She sounded resolute, almost angry.

‘Will she be oka—?’

‘Go! Heejin, please, just leave,’ yelled Hyunjin, a desperate glimmer in her eyes. Heejin nodded, feeling oddly hurt. She watched detachedly as Hyunjin carried the semi-conscious girl through a smaller, side door of the building. Perhaps Hyejoo had been a close friend. Heejin was fairly indifferent to dead or dying bodies, but she supposed this reaction was natural for anyone else.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling from her mind that there was something she didn’t know.

***

‘Who wanted to talk to you, Hyunjin?’ asked Vivi, looking up from her magazine. The smile dropped from her face as she saw the blood-spattered body of Hyejoo. ‘Oh. God.’

‘Help me lay her on the bed,’ gasped Hyunjin, wishing her limbs would quit shuddering. Vivi complied wordlessly, the first time in her lifespan ever doing what Hyunjin told her to. Hyejoo’s ragged breaths sounded like chalk on a blackboard. Hyunjin had never seen her so vulnerable, and it terrified her. She wished Hyejoo would wake up and punch her, because then at least she’d know she was okay.

‘Do you have a plan?’ asked Vivi.

‘N-no. I d-don’t know w-what…’

‘Right then.’ And so Vivi did what she did best: took charge. Her presence filled up the room, wealthy, experienced, and commanding. ‘Get me the first aid kit from my handbag. Second pocket on the right. It’s green.’

Hyunjin rummaged through the expensive-looking bag, being careful not to break the zip. Vivi let out an impatient huff.

‘Don’t worry about the bag and hurry. Rip it if you must, I can buy another one.’

Hyunjin quickly unfastened the pocket and pulled out the kit. Vivi’s steady voice rang through the room. ‘Now I need you to find the bottle of antiseptic and give it to me. Then, fetch some cotton wool from the bathroom.’

Soon, they both hovered over Hyejoo, Hyunjin standing back slightly but unable to tear her gaze away from the sickening smile carved into Hyejoo’s flesh. Vivi worked swiftly and precisely, cleaning the clots of blood away and sterilising the wounds. As she worked, she spoke to Hyunjin.

‘Hyunjin. I hate to ask this of you, but is there a way you can dream of something to heal her? A cream, an antidote, anything.’

Hyunjin’s fingernails dug into her skin as she fiddled with her hands. ‘I wish I could,’ she whispered. ‘But I never learnt how to control what I take from my dreams.’

Vivi swung round, staring Hyunjin directly in the eyes. ‘Then learn,’ she said simply. Her face was hardened. ‘I do not care that Hyejoo hates me, I won’t watch anyone else bleed to death on my bed.’

‘I’ll try,’ said Hyunjin helplessly, sinking onto her bed.

‘Take these.’ Vivi chucked a bottle of sleeping pills at her. Hyunjin quickly read the instructions. She did not ask why Vivi had them. Two miniscule pills fell into her palm.

‘I don’t know what will happen—’

‘Just try,’ said Vivi calmly, her tone almost robotic.

Hyunjin downed the pills and lay down on the bed. Seconds passed, and the ceiling began to blur. It was snowing in the dormitory. Then, it was snowing in Cabeswater.

_Remedy. Cream. I need something that can heal._

The distant trees swayed unhelpfully. Wind whistled inelegantly, shrill like a tuning fork. The trees spoke Latin. The ground was ice. _I need an antidote._

_Te vidimus, Greywaren._

_We see you, Greywaren._ She felt the wasteland’s anger, rippling across the ice and grass. It had caught its thief, meaning there was little time left. Ice crumbled, snow shimmered into hail, a thick mist hid the trees and the sky.

Cabeswater was like a plant curling in on itself, sending a clear message: _You have already stolen too much._

‘I need to help my friend,’ said Hyunjin, trying to will some of her usual confidence back. At school, she rose above the rowdy, raucous students that squabbled and scratched with clumsy raven claws. Here, she was an insignificant speck.

The mountains shuddered, thousands of birds soaring into the air.

_Out._

Hyunjin’s eyes tore open and she lay motionless on the bed. Vivi was looking over her shoulder.

‘She’s losing lots of blood. Did you get it.’ It wasn’t a question and Hyunjin didn’t reply, but in her head she felt a twisted, angry spark. Her finger twitched, and she sat up.

‘I told you. I don’t know _how._ ’ There was something in her hand, and it was not an antidote. A package of ‘Hello Kitty’ kids’ plasters fell onto the bed, sickeningly pink.

‘Is this a joke to you?’ asked Vivi quietly. The robotic politeness was fading. ‘Do you need to have another look at the bloody remainder of her face to force some determination into you?’

‘You don’t have a clue,’ snapped Hyunjin. ‘I _can’t_ do it. I don’t have a _clue_ how to do it. I’m trying.’

‘Try harder.’

‘I’M NOT JUST SOMETHING YOU CAN USE,’ screamed Hyunjin, and the box of plasters was in her hand, and then it was flying through the air, and then it was colliding with Vivi’s face. ‘You don’t give a _damn_ about me, or Hyejoo, you just want to see what I can do. Because apparently that’s what _everyone_ wants.’

Vivi scoffed. ‘Oh, trust me, there is nothing I hate more than your messed-up, ungodly abilities. But this isn’t _about_ you. You’re so egocentric that you _actually_ think I want to watch you drooling on a bed for hours. I’m trying to save someone’s life.’

‘Well, aren’t you a fucking saint, then? Is saving her life easing your non-existent conscience, Miss Richie-Rich? Why are you helping someone you despise? Would you do the same for me? All you’ve ever done is berate me and look down on me since I arrived here. No, you and Hyejoo have much more in common, I can understand why you’d save her and not me. She’ll wake up and you’ll embrace and I’ll be left _alone._ Like I _always_ am.’

Vivi stared at her. ‘You are taking this completely the wrong way. There’s no time for you to throw a tantrum, Hyunjin. It doesn’t matter that Hyejoo’s a terrible excuse for a person, she doesn’t deserve to die.’ Despite her words, Vivi’s face was pale. There was something else written on her face, another reason, but she wasn’t telling Hyunjin.

Hyunjin wanted to walk out the door or throw something. She snatched two more pills from the bottle and knocked them back. Vivi’s disdainful face looked down at her as she fell back into the dream world.

Hyunjin was tossed into the dream, landing by the mountains, icicles swinging on the trees. She closed her eyes, imagining that she was not there. _You can’t see me._ Amidst the dream, she pictured an ointment, something that could heal any flesh wound.

_Te vidimus._

The world collapsed in on itself, a dove screamed, and Hyunjin awoke once more. There was a quickly melting icicle in her hand.

‘Again,’ breathed Vivi.

There was a herd of sheep on the ice, running into one another clumsily. Their wool was the colour of strawberry jam, and Hyunjin awoke with a bundle of it in her arms.

Again. The dream washed into colour before her, and fireworks lit the sky, exploding with an almost silent squeak and littering the ground with flower petals. She lay on the bed with flower petals surrounding her.

Again. The moon was blood red and shadows loomed over the glaciers. Frost glittered like stars and the trees and mountains were black silhouettes in the night. Hyunjin squinted.

The plane wreck creaked and crumbled. A shrieking cry soared through the air. The white wings of the dove flickered into view, bright and ghostlike against the jet black sky. Hyunjin thought of an antidote, anything that would work, and there was a clattering sound. She turned, and behind her was a tiny glass vial full of liquid as unnaturally red as the moon.

She reached out a hand, and—

_tcktcktcktcktcktcktck_

A dark shape grabbed her, feathers and claws sinking into her skin. She writhed out of its grip, skidding on the ice and tumbling onto the ground. It loomed above her, impossibly tall and covered from head to toe in ebony feathers. It had a humanoid body, but its head was that of a raven with a beak like a giant scythe. Claws sprung from the edges of its wings and feet, wickedly sharp.

The night horror lunged for her, staring at her with red, unblinking raven eyes. Teeth gleamed in its gaping maw, a set of kitchen knives designed for her demise.

_Wake up wake up wake up_

She woke up.

Relief flooded into her paralysed body as she recognised the beautiful plainness of the white ceiling above the bed. Vivi was screaming. Hyunjin wished she could move so she could tell her to shut up.

_Crash. Clonk. Scream._

A feeling like the ticking of an undetonated bomb shivered over her. Her fingers twitched. She moved her arm, then turned her head to see the black shape looming over Vivi and Hyejoo. Hyunjin jolted up.

She’d pulled a night horror from her dreams.

An apology was probably due. Or at least an explanation. But the only thing that left her lips was, ‘Run.’

So they did.

The door almost flew from its hinges as Vivi sped through with Hyejoo, Hyunjin at her heels. Their steps thundered like an overly aggressive glissando down the stairs, and the night horror wasted no time following them. Vivi’s screams had roused a few students who stepped out of their dorms and upon seeing the raven beast, shrieked and fled to their beds. A few ‘brave’ ones attempted to stand their grounds, mobile phones in their hands as they called the staff or possibly the police.

‘MOVE IT, PRESIDENT MOBILE PHONE,’ yelled Hyunjin at the nearest one, ‘IT WILL TEAR YOUR ASS TO PIECES, GET BACK INSIDE YOUR DORM!’

The pompous student obeyed, despite not knowing a word of Korean, scurrying behind the door with a relieved whimper. Hyunjin raced past more students, making a valiant attempt not to roundhouse-kick them back to their beds. _Mind your own damn business,_ she thought.

The horror swiped a clawed wing, and she ducked just in time to avoid becoming Mary Queen of Scots’ doppelgänger. A commotion grew steadily louder, but the creature was unfazed, its glassy eyes transfixed on Hyunjin and Vivi. Hyunjin knew, however, that if anyone got in its way they’d be ripped open with scissor-like talons.

‘THIS WAY,’ shouted Vivi, eyes wild and afraid. She gestured to a small cleaning supplies cupboard, wrenching the door open. Hyunjin followed her inside, slamming the door and barring in shut with a broom. She collapsed against the wall with an uneven breath.

‘What fresh hell was _that_?’

‘That’ rammed into the door with a resounding thud, and they both startled.

Hyunjin said, ‘We have to kill it. It won’t stop otherwise.’ Vivi’s eyebrows disappeared into her pink hair. ‘Don’t look at me like that, we don’t have another choice. Do you _want_ it to eviscerate you?’

Vivi paused. ‘Give me a broom then,’ she said flatly, settling Hyejoo on the floor. Hyunjin threw one at her, and Vivi pushed her foot on the middle and yanked one end up with her hand, hard. ‘If it comes near me I’ll drive this into its throat.’

Hyunjin blinked. Then she shrugged and picked up a bottle of bleach and the dust container of a vacuum cleaner. ‘On the count of three?’ Vivi nodded.

_One. Two. Three._

Hyunjin exploded through the door, clumsily avoiding the creature’s swipes. She let the dust burst from its container into the deadened eyes of the night horror. As it flailed, Vivi emerged from behind it, assuming a formal-looking stance. She gave Hyunjin a pompous grin.

‘I had fencing lessons for four years.’

‘JUST FUCKING STAB IT,’ screamed Hyunjin.

The night horror staggered backwards, baring flesh-cutting talons at Vivi. Hyunjin ran forwards. _Improvisation time, I guess,_ she thought wildly. Holding the bottle of bleach like a mighty sword, she flung it in the direction of the monster’s open beak. An underwhelming nothing happened.

 _Oh no._ Hyunjin murmured, ‘I… I forgot to unscrew the damn cap.’ Vivi stared incredulously, and a claw dragged itself across Hyunjin’s arm. She thrashed and pummelled her fists on the greasy, bloodstained feathers. Vivi drove the broom into its side, and the creature stumbled, keeping an iron grip on Hyunjin. But a dark liquid pooled on the ground. Vivi wrenched the broom out of its flesh and blood spurted out and landed on the wall with a splat. Its grip weakened, and Hyunjin kicked herself free just as Vivi impaled it again, this time through its neck.

There was a heavy silence, interrupted only by the repulsive gurgles of the monster as it choked on its tarlike blood. It crumpled, and after one last convulsion, lay still. Hyunjin’s knees were shaking. She looked up at the spiral staircase, and the astounded faces of her entire school stared down at her. Beside her, Vivi swept her bedraggled hair out of her eyes, wearing a triumphant expression.

‘Sorry about the mess,’ Vivi said confidently. A tense silence answered her. Then, a professor took out his phone and pointed it at them. There was a flash. Murmurs turned to shouts, and angry, scared eyes glared at them.

‘We need to leave,’ said Hyunjin. Vivi’s proud smile fell away as the students roared. ‘Get Hyejoo. Now.’

Professors and students alike were starting to run down the stairs in mass panic, screaming at the sight of the horror and fainting at the blood. Hyunjin grabbed Hyejoo’s legs and helped Vivi haul her out of the cupboard. Ignoring the protests of the students, they found the nearest exit and sped out. Hyunjin’s knees throbbed and her arms groaned at Hyejoo’s weight, but she didn’t stop. The music school faded into the distance behind them, as if it were only a dream.

 _Where now?_ Vivi answered her unasked question, ‘I know someone. We can go to her.’ Her eyebrows furrowed. ‘I used to think she was odd… but knowing what I know now makes everything she used to say seem less insane. I think she might be able to help us.’

‘And Hyejoo?’ asked Hyunjin, stumbling over a stone. ‘Shouldn’t we take her to a hospital?’

Vivi looked serious. ‘After what just happened, we don’t exactly look like saints. That photo will be in the newspapers and the police will be after us. Hyejoo’s… _condition_ doesn’t look like an accident and the blame will fall on us. We’ll be locked up as crazy, monster-summoning Satanists. And anyway, the doctors can’t heal her. Not like you might be able to.’ Hyunjin opened her mouth to retort, but closed it at the gleam of hope in Vivi’s eye. What did that mean coming from Wong Viian? Hyunjin would never believe that Vivi actually had faith in her, but the glimmer was like a tiny fracture in a glass ornament. A chink in Vivi’s armour that almost, _almost_ made her seem human.

They passed the square and several smaller streets, Hyunjin’s energy draining from her like water through a sieve. Hyejoo hadn’t stirred for a while. Without the gruesome cut smile she would’ve looked peaceful and nearly innocent. She was young, younger than she seemed and Hyunjin felt an odd stab of pity. _Could she pity a Salzburg musik student? Could she pity a raven girl?_

She shook her head. The tiredness was getting to her. Where was Vivi’s friend?

‘Here,’ panted Vivi, gesturing to a small block of flats. Relief coursed through Hyunjin like a drug. They staggered up the steps and through the lobby into the elevator. Vivi pressed a button and exhaled dramatically. At the right floor, the doors opened with a _ping_ , and they stumbled breathlessly through a small corridor, finally stopping at a door with the number 3 on it.

Vivi knocked. There was a shuffling sound from within, and the door opened. A girl looked at them, her gaze passing over Hyunjin and Hyejoo and resting on Vivi. Her eyes narrowed.

Vivi swallowed, her eyes flitting to the floor. ‘I’m sorry, Yerim, I—’

The girl broke into a grin, and Hyunjin noticed that her hair was bright purple.

 I knew you’d believe me eventually, Vivi,’ said Yerim. ‘I just didn’t know it would take a Greywaren to convince you.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back with a half important/half filler sort of chapter. looking back on the last chapter, i definitely slowed the pacing down a bit with the convoluted descriptions so hopefully this chapter has less fancy metaphors and more action! i'm trying to find effective ways of introducing the rest of the girls, and i'm finding that it helps if they already know at least one other person.  
> also fun fact: the cut smile thingy was inspired by laini taylor's "days of blood and starlight", the second in her "daughter of smoke and bone" trilogy. they're really good books and i recommend them to anyone who's interested.  
> i hope this chapter was okay, and thanks for the the love on my last chapters! <3 my exams are nearly over now, so with the right motivation i should be able to post sooner.


	7. Little Flames In a Wine-Soaked World

Sooyoung felt as if she’d stepped into another world as she walked into the confectionary store. Sweet flavours pierced her nostrils and pastel shades coated the walls like liquid roses. This place always felt out of place in the dark streets of Paris and the sugar and cosiness always calmed her erratic thoughts. Perhaps she should’ve come back sooner.

She walked up to the counter, leaning on the edge as she waited for the girl behind it to notice her. The reddish-brown haired girl bobbed up and down like a robin as she looked around for her tongs, unaware that she already held them in one hand.

‘Hi, Jiwoo.’ The girl swung round, her eyes alight.

‘Well, if it isn’t the rollerblading swan princess,’ grinned Jiwoo, stumbling slightly. The tip of her nose was as pink as a cherry. ‘How may I assist thee, beautiful maiden?’

Sooyoung paused. ‘Are you… drunk? At work? At 11am?!’

Jiwoo winked. ‘I’m whateverrrr you want me to be, baby.’ She giggled. ‘Wow, drunk-me is flirty. Don’t worry, I’ve flirted with eeeevery customer, you’re not special… haha…ha…’

‘Uh, I came because we talked on the phone last night,’ said Sooyoung pointedly. ‘Are you sober enough to remember our conversation?’ Jiwoo’s eyes focused slightly, a small crease appearing between her eyebrows.

_‘…are you serious, Jiwoo? You want to catch who did this?’_

_‘Of course I do. Have you seen the newspapers recently? Death, death, death, everywhere you look. Someone has to stop this. Plus, don’t you want to avenge your friend?’_

_‘Ok. Say we catch them. Then what?’_

_‘Um…’_

 ‘I remember, I remember,’ slurred Jiwoo, but her expression had cleared somewhat. ‘You mentioned something about your fishy friend.’

‘Psychic friend,’ corrected Sooyoung, rolling her eyes. ‘She does her readings using fish. It’s a… unique method, but seems effective.’

‘Righty, then. Let’s g— MY TONGS! THEY WERE IN MY HAND THE ENTIRE TIIIIIIIME!’

Sooyoung grabbed a glass and filled it with water. ‘Sober up, drunken sailor. We’ve got a psychic to visit.’

***

‘This creature is repulsive,’ murmured Yerim. ‘Jinsoul told me about them, but I’ve never witnessed… _this_.’

The purple-haired girl was currently bent over the feebly stirring Hyejoo, peering closely at the bloody wounds. Various books, papers, and cards were scattered around her, all depicting strange and enigmatic scenes. Hyunjin picked at the bandage on her arm and glanced at Vivi; she looked visibly uncomfortable.

‘So, when you said demon…’ started Vivi slowly.

‘I meant it literally,’ replied Yerim grimly. ‘Her body and mind are being devoured by this creature. It did this to her.’

Hyunjin felt nauseous. Yerim had taken the entire night to explain what she knew, and it made sense, but it didn’t. There was an entire other chapter in the book of strangeness that she hadn’t known of. Her world was dreams, but it was so much more than dreams now. Yerim briefly mentioned psychics, ley lines, legends, and the supernatural, but Hyunjin reckoned she hadn’t even scratched the surface of the truth.

‘How did you know?’ asked Hyunjin. ‘That I’m a dreamer.’

Yerim looked up, her piercing eyes wary. Questions seemed to unnerve her, as if she was suspicious of their intentions. ‘I can sort of sense it. Like energy. I’m no psychic, and I can’t amplify energy, I just know it’s there. Everyone carries an aura, but yours is different. Stronger.’

Vivi said, ‘Strong enough to heal Hyejoo?’

Hyunjin shot her an irritated look. Her irritation increased as Yerim nodded, curiosity glinting in her pupils.

‘Listen,’ began Hyunjin angrily, ‘I’m not—’

‘You’re impatient,’ said Yerim bluntly. ‘You expect the dream place to give you whatever you need at any time. Every time you dream, you awake with an object. The dream place runs out eventually, so you have to wait for it to restock, in a sense. Dream, wake up, wait, repeat.’

Hyunjin felt her irritation rising. Being told what to do by a stranger felt humiliating, especially a stranger with bright purple hair.

‘How the hell would you know how my dreams work?’ she snapped. ‘You’re not a dreamer, you’re not like me, how would _you_ understand—?’

Yerim grabbed her wrist, pulling her a hair’s breadth away from her, and hissed in her ear, ‘I have a friend in Paris who met the girl you dreamed to life.’ Hyunjin’s heart pumped ice through her veins. Yerim continued, keeping her voice no more than a hushed whisper, ‘Jinsoul’s a psychic, you see. She felt the energy radiating from her like fumes. It’s almost the same as yours. Almost, because the girl you dreamed isn’t the same as you. She is only a shade of a human, a haze amongst reality.’ Cold melted into panicked heat, and Hyunjin’s heart thumped like a hammer falling on stone.

‘She… she’s alive…?’

The memory resurfaced, a tidal wave of fear and emotion slamming into her skull. Yerim regarded her impassively, her eyes dark and piercing.

‘She’s alive as long as you live and breathe. But she isn’t real. Not really. When you die, she will sleep forever. Unmoving, unfeeling, as still as a doll. If you let your dreams and the night horrors kill you, she will never live again. Let that be your motivation.’

Yerim drew back, her features impossibly neutral. Vivi looked between the two of them, frowning, and Hyunjin struggled to hide the immeasurable panic electrifying her every limb. _She’s alive. She exists. If I die…_

‘Hyunjin,’ asked Vivi, uncertainty in her eyes, an uneven thread in the perfect tapestry of her calm expression. ‘Can you… save her?’

_I dreamt a girl to life. If I don’t take control of my dreams, I’m killing her too. And Hyejoo._ Hyunjin gazed at her bloodied face. Hyejoo’s dark eyelashes fluttered, her breathing was laboured. She was going to die. It all fell on Hyunjin to save her, and the pressure was bone-shattering.

‘Yes.’

***

Jiwoo held a hand to her throbbing head, the blaring lights temporarily astral-projecting her into a different dimension. Music flared like an explosion in her ears, and she swallowed her rising nausea, swaying momentarily on the spot.

‘That’s what you get for getting drunk this early,’ said Sooyoung, watching her with narrowed eyes as they arrived at the reception.

‘Not drunk,’ groaned Jiwoo, ‘only tipsy.’

‘Right. Are you going to tell me _why_ you downed an entire bottle of Parisian wine?’

‘Nope.’ Jiwoo was suddenly glad of the darkness and flashing lights obscuring the heat creeping up her face. _I got drunk because I couldn’t handle you calling me last night._ God. Her head swam. Sooyoung had called _her._

‘Stop grinning, you tease,’ said Sooyoung, but a small smile tugged at her lips. ‘We have important things to do.’

‘Remind me why your psychic friend works at a roller disco?’

Sooyoung shook her head. ‘She doesn’t. Follow me.’

Bemused, Jiwoo followed Sooyoung’s brisk steps through a door by the side of the reception desk. Inside, a series of crooked wooden stairs lead down to a mysterious blackness. As she walked down the stairs, Jiwoo noticed the tiniest glimmer of colour in the dim light. It was a blueish-purple, flickering in and out.

The stairs ended, and they rounded a corner, revealing the source of the light. As if it had been ripped from the air, the darkness gave way to a small room bathed in rich indigos, blues, and lilacs. Violet fairy lights were strung across the ceiling like iridescent cobwebs, and the walls were lined with huge, glowing tanks of water. In the centre of the room was a timeworn wooden table. Various cards, crystals, and books smothered it like a strange tablecloth.

Jiwoo felt as if her mere mortal eyes couldn’t physically take it all in. A strange feeling bloomed within her, a kind of stupefying, fizzing excitement that made the wine she’d had earlier seem like tap-water. Unconsciously, she found her hand grabbing Sooyoung’s as she gazed around the room.

‘Careful,’ called a soft voice. ‘There’s thought and memory littering the floor, try not to trip over it.’

Jiwoo glanced up. The voice came from a blonde figure in the centre of the room, her large dark eyes fixed upon her visitors. Her wavy blonde hair tumbled down her back in wispy waves, like melting vanilla ice cream. She wore a loose blue dress that seemed to move with her, fluid and willowy. At first glance, she appeared delicate, like a porcelain doll. But a beneath the whimsical aura Jiwoo noticed her arms and legs were lean and muscled, suggesting that psychic readings weren’t her only occupation. The girl gazed at her with unblinking eyes, and Jiwoo remembered she had spoken. Quickly, she turned her own gaze to the floor, bemusedly checking for any ‘thought’ or ‘memory’. However, all she saw was stark black raven feathers, scattered across the wooden floorboards.

 ‘Jiwoo, this is Jinsoul,’ said Sooyoung, a smile appearing on her face. She seemed happier here, Jiwoo noted.

‘I remember you,’ said Jiwoo, carefully stepping over the feathers. ‘You came to my shop once.’

‘I did.’ There was a twinkle in Jinsoul’s eye, and Jiwoo silently prayed that she wouldn’t retell the events of that day to Sooyoung. Jinsoul drew closer, and the twinkle died away. She was looking behind Jiwoo, slightly to her left. Jiwoo frowned, she couldn’t think of anything that she would be looking at. Yet Jinsoul’s expression was momentarily devoid of its enigmatic atmosphere. Her eyes returned to Sooyoung, and like the flick of a switch, a normal, easy smile appeared on her face.  

‘Don’t look so awkward, Soo,’ laughed Jinsoul, fist-bumping her and gesturing at the fragile table. Jiwoo paused before sitting down. Jinsoul’s face was like a TV screen changing channels, a myriad of expressions, yet somehow unreadable. Sooyoung seemed unfazed, sitting opposite Jiwoo, Chaewon on her left. Jinsoul brought something to the table, setting it gently down onto the wood. It was one of the smaller purple fish tanks.

‘How are fish going to…?’ Jiwoo trailed off, watching the fish weave and dance, light bouncing and flickering on their scales. They were beautiful, but nothing about them suggested insight into the future.

‘They remind me of little flames, flying through a wine-soaked world,’ said Jinsoul dreamily. Jiwoo raised an eyebrow at Sooyoung, who shrugged. ‘Let’s do one-offs for each of you. See, it works like Tarot. Draw one card, choose one fish, same difference. Next, you have to ask a question.’

‘To the fish?’ Jiwoo felt increasingly confused.

‘To yourself. To the world. It doesn’t matter. But the fish themselves are not psychic.’

The not-psychic fish swam in circles, occasionally overlapping each other. Some were patterned like stained glass, with translucent fins that pushed through the water like butterfly wings. Others were plain but still darted left and right, a glistening sheen on their bodies as they spun. Jiwoo gestured to the black fish closest to her, feeling completely — no pun intended — out of her depth. Jinsoul’s protuberant eyes snapped towards the fish.

Her pupils moved rapidly, following the fluid movements of the fish. Jiwoo turned her own attention to the tank. There didn’t seem to be anything different or mystical about the fish, they swam effortlessly, occasionally slowing or picking up speeds. Jinsoul was focused on the black fish, but now another had joined it, smaller with a white-blue pattern. Slowly, they soared closer to the surface, spinning around each other as if they were intertwined. Their heads pressed close together.

‘I’ve never seen fish get so intimate,’ said Jiwoo.

‘You sound jealous,’ muttered Chaewon slyly.

‘Of course I’m not jealous.’ Jiwoo’s ears felt like hot coals. ‘I’m Jiwoo-sexual, anyway.’

‘The Two of Cups,’ said Jinsoul, nodding. ‘That’s what these two represent. In Tarot, this card stands for uniting two, hoping for forever, but not promising. It’s about how the first step is taken.’

Chaewon said, ‘Jiwoo-sexual. Sure.’

Jinsoul shook her head. ‘It isn’t necessarily romantic. You’re holding onto it, almost letting it consume you. It could go both ways. At present, it’s distracting you from the truths laid out in front of you.’

Jiwoo wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. She’d come here to gain answers about Annie’s murder, not have her personal secrets practically spilled out onto the table. Feeling slightly ruffled, she asked her question, attempting to steer the conversation back to the murder.

‘How can I get over this distraction and find the answers I need?’

Jinsoul considered this. ‘I think it’s a bit more difficult than that. There are several people in your life whom this reading could apply to. It feels… connected. Perhaps it applies to all of them. These relationships you have are on the precipice of something big, and they may lead to the answers you need. Distractions? No. Perhaps they are more like stepping stones, leading you to your goal but threatening to crumble…’ She stopped, pressing a hand to her head. Even pained, her expression remained calm. ‘Sorry. It’s quite loud in here.’ Jiwoo couldn’t hear any noise. ‘Sooyoung, why don’t you choose a fish?’

Sooyoung pointed and Jinsoul’s focus was on the tank once more. Jiwoo wondered how the fish were any different to Tarot cards. She also wondered what Jinsoul had meant by… well, everything. It was vague, yet it didn’t seem like a scam.

‘The Ace of Swords.’ Jinsoul’s voice rang out. ‘Your answers are not far away. You’re about to cut through the gloom. But the blade of logic is a double edged sword. You’ll have clarity, but you may not like the answers. The truth could leave you solitary and alone, should you choose to cut ties with those that complicate things.’

Sooyoung seemed to understand a lot better than Jiwoo, as her face paled somewhat.

‘What choice should I make?’ she asked.

Jinsoul said, ‘Make the choice that is best for you. Sooyoung, I know you as a friend as well as a psychic, and it is both parts of me that feels your regret. Multiple relationships have ended in conflicts that now cannot be undone. So I say this as a friend and a mystical-fish-reading-soothsayer: choose what will not add another regret to your pile.’

Sooyoung nodded, her eyes grateful.

‘I don’t understand,’ said Jiwoo. ‘These deep and personal things aren’t going to help us find the killer.’

Jinsoul shrugged. ‘Maybe finding them is the easy part. What comes after could be what matters most.’ She clasped her hands together, a spark back in her eyes. The gesture carried a note of finality.

‘How much will that be?’ asked Sooyoung, fumbling through her pockets.

‘Hold on. Your smudgy friend hasn’t asked a question yet.’

Chaewon said quickly, ‘I’ll pass. I’m not interested in my future.’

‘Alrighty then,’ said Jiwoo, confused at ‘smudgy’. Jinsoul had odd word choices. ‘Let me pay for mine, Sooyoung.’

‘Nah, I’ll do it. Just give me a free cake next time I’m at the shop.’ Jinsoul told her the amount, and Sooyoung handed the cash over.

‘I hope you’re okay, Soo,’ said Jinsoul, placing a hand on Sooyoung’s shoulder. ‘Let me know if the band ever plays here again, I miss your gigs.’

They hugged, and Jiwoo waved goodbye. Jiwoo took care to step over the scattered raven feathers on the floor as she walked to the door.

‘Chaewon,’ said Jinsoul softly. ‘Can I speak to you alone for a moment, please?’

Jiwoo sent Chaewon a questioning look. Her friend shrugged resignedly, suddenly becoming very interested in the floorboards.

‘You guys go ahead,’ said Chaewon.

Confused, Jiwoo left with Sooyoung and they walked back up the dark staircase. Something was nagging at her, pulling on her like a tiny thread coming loose. She felt warmer suddenly, as if Jinsoul’s room had had a chill to it. Yet, she hadn’t felt cold when she’d first walked in.

‘Jiwoo?’ Sooyoung’s worried face looked at her, the dim glow accentuating the flecks of light in her eyes. ‘Are you okay? I’m sure Jinsoul just wanted to know why she didn’t want a reading.’

‘Y-yeah… I—’ Sooyoung’s hand closed around hers, gently squeezing it. Jiwoo stifled her sharp intake of breath and squeezed back, the warmth entwined around her fingers melting her thoughts of Chaewon as if they were ice.

***

‘They don’t know, do they?’

Chaewon fiddled with her hands underneath the table. Jinsoul gazed imploringly at her, her hands folded calmly on the table. Around her, fish swam in the purple tanks, scales shimmering in the light. The room was warm, not in temperature, but in feeling. There was so much energy, and Chaewon could feel it weaving around her and stitching her cold, collapsing form back together with lopsided, flimsy threads. For now, at least.

The words fell from Chaewon’s lips in a small whisper.

‘Please don’t tell them.’

***

Hyunjin was in her dream place once more.

Snow fell in airy drops of white, smothering the ice with a paper-thin frost. Slowly, miniature twists of wood snaked and curled into the air, moss sprouting in the fissures and cracks and tiny buds flowering into white stars. For a moment, she stood mesmerised by the trees, before remembering her task.

_The dream place runs out. In and out._

‘Like a motherfucking thief,’ she whispered. Her footsteps echoed on the brittle ice as if it were glass, and behind her the dove swooped. Hyunjin drove all other thoughts from her mind, imagining the twisting trees turning into something useful and healing.

Cabeswater tremored, beginning to sense her. The dove cried out and flapped vigorously.

_‘Why do you steal from us?’_

‘I only take what is forced onto me,’ she replied truthfully. ‘But now I have to steal. Please. Someone will die.’

The white blossoms were opening, petals unfurling like wings. Hyunjin was by the nearest tree, tentative fingers reaching out. The dream place shimmered, almost dissipating. The dove dived into the leaves, disappearing.

‘Please,’ said Hyunjin. ‘I need to save her.’

Her hand closed on one of the flowers. It sat in her palm. Slowly, she peeled away the remaining petals, revealing a tiny bottle encased inside. There was a bright red liquid inside, and she smiled. The dove reappeared, flickering into something else.

She awoke.

Through paralysed eyes, she saw their faces: Vivi’s anxious, Yerim’s curious. Her limbs tingled and movement returned to her. She sat up, handing the bottle to Yerim.

Strangely, Hyunjin felt utterly calm. No nerves jittered in her body and no worries raced through her brain. There was a chance that the liquid wouldn’t work, yet it was impossible that it wouldn’t work. As Yerim poured the liquid onto Hyejoo’s wounds, Hyunjin watched with a hungry satisfaction as they knitted themselves closed, weaving the threads of Hyejoo’s life together. Triumph roared inside her; it was a warm feeling, it felt _good._

Relief sparked in Vivi’s eyes, but a strange ardour unfurled in Hyunjin’s heart, consuming every relieved thought. Hyejoo was alive because of _her._ The bloody slashes on her face and neck were vanishing because of _her_. A final drop of red landed on her skin, sinking in and washing away the last gash. Yerim took a cloth and carefully wiped the scarlet blood away, frowning slightly.

‘There’s still some faint scars,’ she murmured, appearing deep in thought. ‘Perhaps it wasn’t strong enough… or perhaps…’ Peering closer, Hyunjin saw that a few red lines still flecked Hyejoo’s neck and faint white lines stretched across her face. Somehow, the imperfection didn’t discourage her. A flood of curiosity washed into her mind as she realised this was only the beginning of what she could do. If she could _learn_ from her mistakes, if she could _fix_ them, there was a whole world waiting to be created at her fingertips.

Vivi left the room, mumbling something about needing a glass of water, and Yerim began rifling through her notes and books. Hyunjin remained rooted in place. Her mind was spiralling, travelling into the depths of her thoughts and memories. The biggest mistake was imprinted in her brain, glaring and blackened like burnt paper. If Yerim was telling the truth, then the girl she’d dreamt to life wouldn’t live without Hyunjin. She was a smudge, an imperfect creation, a vulnerability.

The question burned within her: could she rectify her worst mistake of all?

She closed her eyes, leaning against the nearby sofa. Time passed wearily, and the question didn’t leave her brain.

_What now?_ A new future lay ahead her, its path glistening and glowing like heaven itself. The violin in her dorm, the music school, and the raven students all seemed so far away now.

Something was starting. A strange something.

Hyunjin was quite keen to know what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for not uploading this sooner! i hit an annoying sort of slump and haven't been writing much. i hope this chapter is okay though!


	8. The Sin of Swallowing You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for not updating sooner! I've felt very uninspired recently and haven't been writing much. I've got plans for future chapters though, so hopefully the wait won't be as long next time. Thanks for all the support <3

Hyejoo woke up. The floor she lay on was coarse and lumpy, a sign of cheap carpet. The lighting of the room was dim and grey. She blinked a few times, waiting for the flood of anger and bitterness to enter her, waiting for the hopelessness to swallow her.

It didn’t come.

There were no emotions, only emptiness.

The sound of muffled voices floated into the room, hushed whispers and low tones. In her ears, they sounded almost discordant, as if they were dissonant chords and syncopated drumbeats, overlapping and cluttering into a jarring, surreal melody. Everything felt warped and twisted.

Voices screamed silently at her: _How does it feel to be so broken and decayed? Sure, you live on. But for the sin of swallowing me, me who is soaked into your veins, this fractured life will not last._

_You are me, now I’m you._

She never expected the demon to disappear. She felt no surprise or anger that it was still there. No, she still felt a hollow nothing.

‘Hyejoo?’ The breathless voice alerted her numb senses somewhat and she turned around. Vivi’s face looked tired, haunted, but her eyes shone with genuine relief. Hyejoo stared blankly at her.

‘Why did you find me.’ It wasn’t a question, it was an exhausted, numb accusation.

‘I couldn’t let another—’

‘Whoever you lost in the past, Vivi, isn’t me,’ said Hyejoo angrily. Her throat and mouth throbbed. ‘Stop projecting all of your fucking guilt onto every dying, tortured person. Don’t you get it? You couldn’t save the one you lost, and you can’t save me.’ Her own voice sounded weak, pathetic. It only angered her more. ‘The unmaker is _still_ inside me.’

Through blurred vision, Hyejoo saw two others enter the room. One had purple hair, the other was Kim Hyunjin. Despite herself, Hyejoo felt a twang of gratitude. She supposed Hyunjin had healed her. Not that it made any difference.

The purple haired girl moved towards her, watching her with attentive eyes. A keen curiosity lit up her face, but her expression was grave. _This is a person who knows things and wants to know more,_ thought Hyejoo.

‘It’s still inside you. Just dormant. Sleeping. I need you to tell me how you became possessed by this thing.’ A part of Hyejoo grudgingly appreciated the bluntness; she was tired of pity and relief. Absent-mindedly, her fingers traced her neck. She felt the place where the wound had been, hissing slightly at the stab of pain. However, the huge gash was gone, replaced with a smattering of papercuts.

‘It was a dark and stormy night…’ began Hyejoo, fixing the purple haired girl with a flat stare.

‘Don’t be a twat,’ snarled the girl, and Hyejoo felt a flicker of glee at the impatience in her fatigued eyes.

‘Okay.’ Hyejoo picked at a speck of crusted blood on her neck. ‘Remind me who you are and why the fuck I’d want to tell you _anything.’_

The girl’s nostrils flared. ‘I’m Choi Yerim. I don’t know or care who you are, but I could learn something from the bastard eating you from the inside out. If you don’t cooperate, I might as well slit your throat to ribbons all over again.’ Hyejoo didn’t think she was bluffing.

Hyejoo watched her companions darkly. An uncomfortable tension was swallowing the air, filling every crevice with blackened thoughts and bleak memories. Something had changed within the hours that she was unconscious. A catalyst spurred each mind, she could almost see their brains working like machines and churning out fresh realisations, unpicking and remaking their view of the world.

‘Two years ago,’ she said, ‘I was left alone. I found a place, a demon found me.’

Yerim demanded, ‘What place?’

‘Iceland,’ said Hyejoo. ‘I don’t know where exactly, but there was lots of ice.’

‘Helpful.’

‘And a plane wreck.’

Hyunjin froze. Yerim didn’t miss the sudden motion.

‘Hyunjin?’

‘Cabeswater,’ she breathed, eyes dancing. Yerim lit up like a struck match. Vivi raised a pink eyebrow, mirroring Hyejoo’s own confusion.

Hyejoo said, ‘Is anyone going to bother explaining why you two are suddenly pissing yourselves with excitement?’

‘It’s the name of my dream place,’ explained Hyunjin, as Yerim shot out of the room with several crumpled bits of paper. ‘Or at least, it’s what my dream place decided to be. Cabeswater has always existed in some way, but I guess it’s manifested physically now, outside of my head.’

‘Or you dreamt it,’ said Yerim softly, returning to them room, her arms overflowing with maps, notes, and texts. ‘When will you stop underestimating your abilities, Hyunjin?’

‘How is that even possible?’ said Vivi. ‘How could she dream an actual place into reality?’

‘Why don’t you ask her?’ said Yerim, her gaze sliding slyly to Hyunjin. An unspoken thought passed between their eyes, and Hyunjin tensed. Hyejoo’s eyes narrowed. Yerim knew something about Hyunjin. Something that Hyunjin wasn’t willing to share.

‘Why does knowing all this matter so much to you?’ Hyunjin shot back. ‘You’re interested in this stuff, I get it, but there’s more to it, isn’t there? What are you trying to do, Yerim?’

Yerim’s expression was guarded. ‘There’s a lot more to it. And I’m not just going to blurt out years of research to a couple of strangers.’

Hyunjin said quietly, ‘Thanks to you, I know how to dream up what I want. I’d suggest you spill, or I might _accidentally_ dream something dangerous to life.’ It was an empty threat, Hyejoo knew Hyunjin well enough to know that. But there was something about the glint in her eyes that, for a second, Hyejoo almost believed her. ‘You never cared about saving Hyejoo. All you were interested in was the thing inside her. And now you’re interested in Cabeswater. Two very powerful things. I won’t leave unless I know your true intentions, pure or not.’

Yerim chuckled humourlessly. ‘I keep your secret, and this is how you repay me? Fine. I’ll tell you. But don’t blame me when your wings catch the sun. This type of knowledge is dangerous in the hands of fools, and no one will be able to catch you when you fall.’ _Who’s catching you?_ thought Hyejoo. Yerim continued. ‘You understand what ley lines are, don’t you? They connect spiritual places and hold powerful paranormal energy. I’m searching for a specific three lines, each connecting three different places. These places are teeming with energy from the future, past, present, and somewhere inbetween — a psychic’s wet dream. Sound familiar yet?’

There was a pause. ‘There are more?’ asked Hyunjin incredulously. _More of what?_ Hyejoo felt very out of the loop.

‘Yes and no,’ replied Yerim. ‘Three Cabeswaters, or to be more specific, three different manifestations of Cabeswater. The Cabeswater you manifested wasn’t the first. There are two more, each hidden in a different part of the world, each connected to each other. Finding just one of them would be amazing. There’d be so much power, so much possibility.’ Something pinched Hyejoo’s heart, the tiniest sensation, like the warm lick of a flame. _So much possibility._ Yerim’s letterbox clanked noisily, along with the sound of paper hitting the floor.

Yerim straightened up, continuing. ‘Some records have shown that Cabeswater can give you glimpses of the future, or hide something precious, or create the impossible.’ She left the room, raising her voice as she went to collect her post. ‘So, with that in mind, can you imagine the power _three_ Cabeswaters would hold? With each one connected, you could not only glimpse into the past, but _communicate_ with it. You could discover secrets, myths, le…’

The silence split the air in two. Slowly, Yerim reappeared, holding a newspaper in her hand. Her face darkened.

‘Yerim—’ began Vivi.

‘You need to leave. Now.’

Hyejoo stared at the hazy speckles that made up the photo of Vivi, Hyunjin, and something else. The headline stood stark above the image like a glare of black lightning — UNHOLY HORRORS AT MUSIC SCHOOL. Hyejoo recognised the gleam of mahogany and brass, the impeccable floor, the spiralling staircase. Despite her wretched form, she let out a dry laugh.

‘Fuck off,’ she said, in grudging admiration. ‘There is no way _you two_ got yourselves expelled. No, no, holy shit, you’ve likely got the fucking _police_ after you. No _way.’_

‘All of you, get out of my damn house,’ said Yerim. Hyejoo, amused, noticed her voice tremble. ‘I’m sorry. But I won’t shelter fugitives, not after everything I’ve worked for.’

Without waiting for a reply, she spun round, grabbing bundles of scrolls and books. Paper flew from her hands as she rushed across the room. Vivi stared helplessly and Hyejoo could almost see the cogs in her mind turning, formulating persuasive sentences.

Vivi said, ‘Yerim, please. This was a terrifying and unfortunate incident, but we saved lives, we—’ Hyejoo would’ve face-palmed had her hands not felt like lead. Condescension always managed to sneak its way into Vivi’s words.

‘I don’t care if you saved an entire city,’ snapped Yerim, panic flickering behind her anger. She held up a piece of parchment decorated with strange diagrams. ‘I don’t exactly look innocent.’ She kicked a couple of books underneath her sofa. ‘There’s likely a trail of blood leading right here and if they find m-me then…’

Vivi stayed quiet. Hyejoo shrugged. Hyunjin nodded resignedly. ‘We understand.’ Yerim continued shoving notes and diagrams behind shelves and a small piece of parchment fell near Hyejoo. Impulsively, she slid it into her closed fist, right before Vivi and Hyunjin started hauling her up. Hyejoo’s stomach lurched, but soon she was standing on trembling legs, leaning on the other two girls.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Vivi, opening the door.

The purple haired girl just sighed.

***

Yerim ran a hand through her colourful hair as she dialled a number. Energy hummed around her and it was her own, tense and jittery in the air. The phone buzzed next to her ear in time with her rapid, distrustful heartbeat. On the other end of the line, someone picked up the phone and Yerim’s ears were immediately filled with the sounds of crunching leaves and rattling bones.

‘Yerim, what is it?’ said a breathless voice on the other end. She heard footsteps pounding the ground, many of them thundering over one another. ‘I can’t talk long, I’ve been amplifying every buried thing within two metres of myself today.’

‘That’s okay, I’ll summarise,’ replied Yerim quickly. ‘I found a dreamer, Jinsoul found a dreamed-human, and I know where the next Cabeswater is.’

‘Exciting,’ wheezed the voice, not sounding remotely excited. ‘Where do you need me to go?’

Yerim said, ‘Actually, we need to meet. It’s been a while, Jungeun. _Tout ma vie_ roller disco, Paris. Try not to bring too many dead things, it’ll look bad on the surveillance.’

Jungeun answered dryly, ‘I’ll try my best.’

***

‘Hey, dickface’

‘You know, I’m starting to regret saving your ass.’ Hyunjin rolled her eyes, focusing on moving forward as fast as possible whilst supporting a frail Hyejoo. Frailty, sadly, didn’t seem to be affecting Hyejoo’s speech nearly as much as her legs.

‘Where are we going? I mean, you guys sort of destroyed the school — nice one, by the way — and we’re running down the streets of Salzburg in plain sight. At 10am.’

Vivi’s gaze turned to Hyunjin. ‘That’s a good question, actually.’

Hyunjin said, ‘To the Altstadt K…kase…er…br — something. I’ll know it when I see it.’

Hyejoo muttered, ‘ _Gott im Himmel_ …’

Scowling, Hyunjin quickened her pace, scanning the area for any police _._ Simultaneously, her brain had switched to GPS mode, desperately trying to remember the directions to…

‘There!’ She pointed, causing Hyejoo to stumble. ‘As long as the receptionist hasn’t read the morning paper, we’ll be safe there.’

‘As long as…’ Vivi stared at her incredulously.

‘Can you think of a better idea?’

They arrived at the doors of the hotel and stumbled inside the spacious reception. Hyunjin propped Hyejoo up into a faux-casual position and Hyejoo smiled painfully through gritted teeth.

‘Who are we looking for?’ asked Vivi. Hyunjin told her and Vivi exchanged brisk words with the receptionist, melting effortlessly back into pompous, authoritative Vivi. As the receptionist dialled the hotel room number, the three of them sank into the leathery reception chairs. Hyunjin found herself staring blearily at an oil painting of a constipated-looking cowboy that hung above the desk.

_Yee haw,_ she thought.

‘That was an absolute shambles, wasn’t it?’

No one spoke. Hyejoo looked her dead in the eyes.

‘Vivi, just say clusterfuck like a normal person.’

Despite herself, Hyunjin snorted. Vivi sniggered. Their sleep-deprived eyes met and then all three of them were laughing. Vivi’s ever-perfect skin was crinkled as she grinned and Hyejoo’s dark eyes sparked with light. A strange, airy feeling was present in Hyunjin’s chest.

She’d spent more time with Vivi and Hyejoo than any ‘friend’ she’d ever had. In the last 24 hours, the three of them had come fairly close to death. Here they all sat: one possessed by evil, one who’d stabbed a giant raven, and one who’d both saved and nearly killed them all. And yet, Hyunjin was laughing.

An elevator beeped and Heejin stepped out of it. Still chuckling, Hyunjin gave her an apologetic smile.

‘Um. It’s me. I’m back. Yee haw?’

Heejin stared blankly. ‘…Yee haw.’

***

‘I suppose you’re not going to tell me how your friend is magically healed.’ Heejin was sat cross-legged on the coffee table in the living room. Her hotel room was big, more of a mini apartment than a singular room. The other two had retreated to the remaining two rooms, possibly together, likely separately.

Hyunjin absent-mindedly ran her hands through her hair, dark circles under her eyes. ‘No sane person would believe me. I’m too tired for incredulous expressions and disbelieving outbursts tonight.’

Heejin smiled faintly. It would be hypocritical of her to demand that Hyunjin revealed all her secrets. Plus, secrets were usually exchanged equally between both parties, and Heejin didn’t have any that she was willing to share.

‘Do you want coffee or something? You look like you’ve been up all night.’

‘No thanks. You don’t have any bread, do you?’

‘…Bread?’

‘Yep.’

‘Uh… yeah, I think so.’

Heejin began rummaging through the hotel cupboards. In the other room, Hyunjin’s friends were silent. Heejin wouldn’t have blamed them for passing out there and then; everyone looked like they’d been dragged through Hell and back. She found half a loaf of wholemeal bread. For some reason her thoughts drifted back to the cloaked figure.

‘Do weird things often happen in Salzburg?’ she asked casually.

‘It’s no weirder than anywhere else,’ replied Hyunjin. Heejin studied her, but her weary face was hard to read. Heejin passed her a slice of bread.

‘Do you want any butter or…?’

‘No thanks.’

As she watched Hyunjin eat the blandest snack in the world, an urge tugged at her mind. _Ask her about Greywarens!_ It seemed odd, though. They’d only met a couple of times and Heejin didn’t want to drive her away. Not that Hyunjin had anywhere else to go — she’d explained the whole accidental-evil-bird-school-destroying shenanigans. Heejin had taken that with a pinch of salt. Still, perhaps Hyunjin knew something.

Carefully, Heejin pressed on, ‘What about... thievery and stuff? Is that common here?’ She paused, lying easily. ‘It’s just, I lost some of my stuff and I think it’s been stolen.’

Hyunjin shrugged again. ‘Maybe you’re an easy target because you’re foreign. Honestly, I don’t know the ins-and-outs of Salzburg. I only came here a few years ago.’

‘Why did you come all the way here?’ asked Heejin curiously.

‘So I could escape into the sublime countryside of Austria with my rugged and handsome fiancé and to find a wizened cottage in the middle of nowhere, only to brutally disembowel him using a stiletto heel and escape north to the Czech Republic riding a palomino horse, where I’ll meet seven frogs, five geese, and a mysterious poet to read sonnets aloud to me as I cry myself to sleep in my four poster bed.’

‘So in other words, none of my business?’

The corners of Hyunjin’s mouth twitched up. ‘Not yet.’

Heejin felt a warmth within her chest, wondering for a moment if she’d rubbed some Vick’s Vaporub on her skin. Despite Hyunjin appearing tired and disinterested, Heejin felt _seen._ Usually, people seemed to look through her instead of at her. Hyunjin did neither. Hyunjin looked into her. She listened and noticed and understood.

Heejin asked, ‘What will you do now?’

‘I’m not sure.’ She suddenly looked sheepish. ‘If it isn’t too much trouble, I’d like to stay here a little longer.’

Heejin bit her lip, her logical assassin brain protesting. If Hyunjin found out the bloody trail Heejin left behind then there’d be less bread, yee haws, and ripped dresses, and more police sirens and prison bars.

Her mouth said, ‘Sure.’

Hyunjin’s shoulders sagged in relief.

‘Thank you. For this and for last night.’

‘Ah, it was nothing. You gave me directions the other day.’

Hyunjin said quietly, ‘And you saved a life.’

Something tore a jagged line across Heejin’s heart. She wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear. She wanted Couteaut to disappear. She wanted to leave this job without the dire consequences.

But she couldn’t.

There was another reward that came with killing. The money helped, sure. But every cent was worthless compared to the life she was saving. The lives of the innocent and faceless were the price to pay for her friend’s life.

A small price, in Heejin’s eyes.

As Hyunjin left the room to get some sleep, Heejin remained sitting. Before she’d been assigned this impossible task, killing hadn’t left a huge stain on her conscience. She let out a humourless laugh. It seemed her sins were catching up to her. First the Levett girl, and now she was risking her friend’s life to save a girl she’d just met.

She closed her eyes, wishing it was easier. She wished Chaewon hadn’t made the fatal mistake. That day was far away now, but it was etched into Heejin’s mind.

***

_3 years ago._

_Chaewon spit another drop of blood, all smiles and laughter vanished. The worst of it was over now, but Heejin kept her arm around the hyperventilating girl. Red welts and the beginnings of bruises littered the girl’s skin. Her sleek black wig lay forgotten on the floor and her fluffy blonde hair was matted with blood._

_Chaewon laughed weakly. ‘I’m dead. He’s gonna kill me.’_

_‘No. Not if I have anything to say about it. Chae, I’ll talk to Couteaut, he listens to me, he’ll—’_

_‘He’ll kill you too. God, if I wasn’t so weak, so…’ Chaewon broke off, her knees shaking and giving way. Heejin semi-caught her, setting her friend on the harsh wooden floorboards._

_‘Chaewon,’ she said softly, ‘we need to leave.’_

_Tears cut interlacing paths across her face, cutting through blood and grime. Heejin suppressed a surge of rage as she saw the smudgy fingerprints dotting Chaewon’s face. Her friend’s breaths were heavy and full of pain._

_‘You’re not weak, Chaewon. It was one mercy. One.’_

_Chaewon held her face in her trembling hands. There were cuts on her hands, too. Cuts everywhere, like flecks of red paint._

_‘He was a boy. A child.’ Her voice was nearly imperceptible._

_‘I know.’_

_‘I couldn’t kill him.’_

_Heejin briefly shut her eyes. Pleads and screams echoed in her ears, guilt pulling her to the ground like an anchor. Sure, she’d had tough jobs before, but a_ child.

_‘I’ll talk to Couteaut,’ she repeated firmly, her mind constructing a different plan. In reality, talking would make up about 1% of it. She’d squeeze the life out of him with her bare hands if he didn’t comply with her terms. It was the only way: a deal had to be made._

_‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ Chaewon begged. ‘I’m serious, Heejin. I can’t…’ Shuddering sobs wracked her body. Heejin watched her, not seeing an assassin or a sarcastic friend, but a girl. A victim, much like the people Heejin had mercilessly slaughtered._

_This couldn’t go on._

_That night, she’d stalked up to Couteaut’s hideout, resisting the urge to tear his oily face off his skull. Instead, she’d_ talked, _like she’d promised to, reducing herself to a pathetic beggar and loathing every second. For Chaewon, she’d pleaded and bargained. Couteaut had laughed in her face._

_‘You’re joking, right? You… you actually think I’d let my two best assassins just waltz right out?’ Couteaut leant back on his chair as if it were a throne, licking his lips. The unmissable stench of beer contaminated the air. ‘_ I _decide when your contract ends._ I _make the deals. And as far as I’m concerned, you two bastards are not leaving.’_

_Heejin would’ve spat in his face if Chaewon’s life wasn’t on the line. Couteaut’s smug face gazed drunkenly down at her, waiting for a retort, waiting for tears._

_‘Fine,’ growled Heejin. Her blood boiled. ‘_ Fine. _I’ll make a stupid deal. End her contract. End it, and I’ll stay.’_

_Couteaut smirked. ‘Alright. I’ll end it. In four years.’ Heejin’s nails dug into her palms. ‘Four years is all she has to do. After that… freedom.’_

_Heejin shook her head. ‘No. It’s not good enough. I have to know that you won’t hurt her again.’_

_‘Fine, fine.’ Couteaut lifted his hands in mock surrender. ‘I won’t touch the brat. She’ll be free in four short years. And you’ll remain here. You’ll kill whoever I tell you to. And god help your little friend if you ever try to escape. I’ll find you both, no matter what, and it’ll be a bloody end.’_

_It was a nightmare. Heejin knew that if she agreed, she’d be chained and imprisoned, forced to do this slimeball’s bidding like a puppet. This was no life._

_But it didn’t matter. Any pain she felt didn’t matter, because she wasn’t real. A hysterical sob made its way into her throat. She could never, ever feel even the tiniest inkling of the pain that Chaewon would, because_ she wasn’t real. _Perhaps if she kept telling herself that then it wouldn’t hurt. The guilt had already faded into grey, so why shouldn’t everything else?_

_Heejin said, ‘Deal.’ and Couteaut’s mouth stretched into a foul smile._

_Despite the sickening feeling, she felt only relief. Nothing else mattered. The cries of her victims and the agony in her mind didn’t matter, because Chaewon would live._

_That was the only thing that mattered._

***

In the present, Heejin watched the grey walls of the grey hotel become greyer. Burdens weighed heavily on her, lies hissed at her. She was alone.

She was lonesome.


	9. Murdered/Remembered

**TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide mention/description. Please don't read if you'll get hurt by this!**

The roller disco was bursting at the seams. Crowds lingered in every corner, chatting and drinking as their feet spun and skidded beneath them. Electronic music blasted throughout the room, ear-splitting and melodious. It was ugly and it was beautiful.

Sooyoung glided to the centre of the rink, the world around her flashing in yellows and blues and reds. As she skated, a few people high-fived her, some gave her respectful nods, and some gave her envious scowls.

Sooyoung spun round. ‘Come on, Jiwoo, they’re waiting for us!’

Jiwoo edged forward, legs shaking like those of a new-born lamb. Her arms flailed clumsily, but there was a resolute expression on her face. Eventually, she caught up to Sooyoung, brushing her fringe out of her eyes.

‘I’m a natural,’ she announced.

‘You’re a dork,’ said Sooyoung.

A green-haired figure in the middle of the rink waved. Sooyoung waved back and her bandmates rolled towards them on green and red and yellow flashing skates.

‘ _Salut,_ Soo!’ shouted Morgane.

‘Hi, Morgane.’ Sooyoung gave her a fleeting hug as the other two skated over. ‘Hey, Noémie, hey Juliette.’ Noémie winked. Juliette gave her a small smile.

‘Is this your new _chérie_ , Sooyoung?’ Juliette pulled one of Noémie’s dark curls. ‘Ow! I was just asking!’

Sooyoung said, mildly flustered, ‘ _No_ , she’s my friend. The one who runs the confectionary, remember?’

‘The one with the—’

‘The one with the chewy macarons, yes,’ said Jiwoo, exhaling. ‘Jeez, I make pastries too, you could give them a chance.’

Morgane gave Sooyoung a not-so-subtle nod. ‘I like this one.’

Sooyoung coughed. ‘Are we going, or…? Jiwoo can’t learn to skate on her own.’

Juliette and Noémie linked arms with Jiwoo and the five of them set off round the rink. Electronic drums pounded, stuttering in and out of rhythm with Sooyoung’s heartbeat. She momentarily closed her eyes, letting her body move and her mind waver. The roller disco was the only place that loosened her rigid thoughts and aching muscles. Like a swan upon a lake, she glided freely across the glassy floor, forcing her unwanted thoughts away.

The thoughts swam lethargically in a corner of her mind. Her past was a complicated one, not one she wanted to remember. Not because she’d been hurt, but because she’d hurt somebody else, leaving a guilt heavier than the sky on her shoulders. It changed her, weakened her to breaking point. So, somewhere along the line, False-Sooyoung had taken her place. A façade.

She opened her eyes. False-Sooyoung didn’t want to think about those things now. A nearby whoop of laughter dragged her mind to the present.

Jiwoo was laughing, sprawled on the floor. Sooyoung watched her as she giggled, her smile so big it could encompass the entire universe.

‘Jiwoo took a bit of a tumble!’ yelled Noémie, switching to Korean, perhaps out of courtesy for Jiwoo.

Jiwoo said, between laughs, ‘It was a graceful and unique dance move. Made up three seconds ago by me. Also — you guys speak Korean? That’s great, it’s hard to learn! I never heard you sing in Korean at gigs!’

The music pulsed loudly, but Sooyoung only heard muffled beats, as if cotton had been shoved inside her ears.

‘We… things didn’t go as planned,’ said Morgane shortly. She spoke French once more. Juliette toed the floor with her rollerblade.

‘Come on, Morgane,’ said Noémie tiredly. ‘Don’t bullshit her.’

Sooyoung came closer, gently taking Jiwoo’s hand, trying to ignore the shaking in her own.

‘It’s a touchy subject, Jiwoo,’ she said. ‘Annie… Annie didn’t really want to. I think maybe she was self-conscious of her Korean skills. We… I wanted us to become multi-cultural, so we could connect with people all over the world. We argued a lot. On the day… on the day it happened, we had our worst fight yet.’ Sooyoung remembered the blonde girl’s anger, the names she’d called her, the insults Sooyoung had hurled at her.

‘Shit,’ murmured Jiwoo, pulling her hand from Sooyoung’s. The gesture hurt more than it had meant to. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I always loved your performances. It still feels… surreal.’

 _She’s really gone._ Sooyoung knew her friends were thinking the exact same thing. Juliette’s lips were clenched together, like she was trying not to cry.

‘None of us know what happened on that night,’ said Morgane. ‘I know there’s been a lot of murders lately, but I don’t get why they chose her.’

‘Whoever they are, they’re good,’ said Sooyoung darkly. ‘I was in the neighbourhood at the time and…’ She trailed off. A vivid memory pushed its way to the front of her mind. ‘Holy shit.’

‘What?’

Sooyoung said, ‘I’ve just remembered. There _was_ someone. A girl. I bumped into her in the street and she apologised. She was wearing all black.’ Her heart hammered. ‘What if she…’

‘Okay… So what?’ asked Noémie. ‘You’re going to catch who did this?’

‘That’s a bad idea, Soo,’ said Juliette. ‘It won’t change anything.’

Sooyoung considered this. Juliette was right, it wouldn’t bring her friend back. But something kept nagging inside of her, telling her it was the right thing. Only two weeks ago had they all been strumming guitars and singing until their lungs gave out. Annie was gone, but maybe clarity would piece Sooyoung’s spirit back together. Perhaps they could play gigs again, be a fraction of what they used to be.

‘I won’t let it hurt me,’ she said. ‘I’m not the vengeful protagonist of a second-rate thriller, I just want to know. It would help me.’

Her friends stayed silent. Juliette eventually rolled off and Noémie and Morgane went to get snacks. Jiwoo was being uncharacteristically quiet. Sooyoung felt a pang of guilt for dragging Jiwoo into her painful life. Maybe they needed a splash of optimism.

‘Hey,’ said Sooyoung, placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘I think we should visit Jinsoul again.’

***

‘So. All the years we’ve known each other and you failed to mention that you were possessed by a… a demon, was it?’

Vivi was leaning against the wardrobe, not bothering to knock. Strands of morning sunlight snaked through the window, illuminating the greasy sheen on the half-dressed girl’s hair. Hyejoo didn’t turn around, her limbs hanging limply over the bed like a string-less puppet.

‘It wouldn’t kill you to knock,’ said Hyejoo. She paused. ‘It’s not a demon, really. It calls itself “unmaker”. Whatever the hell that means.’

Vivi definitely didn’t know what that meant. She slid further into the room, stopping by the bed Hyejoo sat on.

Vivi said, ‘You look preposterous.’

Hyejoo didn’t indulge her with a response, instead twisting something white and papery in her hands. Vivi found herself staring. Hyejoo’s hands weren’t sharp and lean like the rest of her. They were pale and smooth. They looked young.

‘What happened in Iceland?’

Hyejoo didn’t seem surprised by the question. She faced Vivi, the thin white scars tracing a moonlit path up both sides of her face. They didn’t look unsettling anymore, but Vivi wasn’t used to the jagged, discoloured marks. 

Hyejoo said, ‘Tell me yours.’

‘Pardon?’

Hyejoo gave her a pointed look. ‘You know. Why you practically faint every time someone gets a papercut. Tell me what happened to you and I’ll tell you what happened to me.’

Vivi’s throat was tight. Subconsciously, her fingers drifted over her wrists and up her arm. She pretended to feel the steady flow of blood through her veins.

‘Do you want to know or are you just taunting me?’

Even without looking, she felt Hyejoo’s shrug. ‘It doesn’t matter what I want. You’re extremely inexperienced in the whole “expressing emotions” thing. Get it off your chest. Get drunk. Smash plates. Break the world before it breaks you.’

Vivi said, ‘I’m not sure that’s my style.’ Hyejoo continued turning the paper and over in her fingers. Vivi had a feeling that whether or not she left the room, Hyejoo would remain in this position, twisting and turning. A minute passed. The words tumbled from her lips like ghosts. ‘I met Yerim and Jinsoul a while ago in Paris during a modelling contract. Jinsoul predicted the death of my best friend.'

Her voice tasted like acid on her tongue. She waited for a retort, but Hyejoo was a surprisingly good listener. Although her eyes remained fixed on the floor, they were awake with attentiveness. Her silence was a very Hyejoo thing, so for a moment Vivi wasn’t sure if she should continue. Hyejoo nodded almost imperceptibly.

‘The prediction came true.’

Vivi expected a _that sucks bro_ or an eloquent statement involving the word ‘fuck’, but Hyejoo said: ‘I hope that Yerim gets sent a nice night-horror-shaped gift from Hyunjin.’ Impossibly, Hyejoo was angry. On Vivi’s behalf. Vivi must have missed the world turning upside down, which was a shame; it would have made for an interesting sight.

Vivi said, ‘Funnily enough, I don’t enjoy the sight of someone bleeding to death in front of me.’ Vivi heard the contempt in her own voice and consciously subdued her tone. ‘I was so caught up in my anger at Yerim and her friend and so caught up in my disbelief. I didn’t notice. His pain. One day I found him bleeding on a bed with torn wrists and then I noticed.’ A tear hung from her lashes, taunting. It angered her; a single tear didn’t carry the torrential weight of her true misery.

Hyejoo was still silent. She stopped twisting the paper and handed it to Vivi. It was a crumpled thing, and through the bumps and lines Vivi made out traces of black ink. Vivi unfolded the twists and read the words.

‘I got it from turnip girl,’ said Hyejoo.

‘I don’t recognise the name.’ Vivi studied the words further, examining the curve of the ‘y’ and the dot of the ‘i’. It was a Korean name, but it was Romanised. ‘It isn’t Yerim’s handwriting,’ she determined. ‘Yerim can’t write in the Roman alphabet. I remember, when we were learning German and French together, she only ever learnt to speak it.’

Hyejoo frowned, peering closer. ‘It was torn from something.’

Vivi said, ‘A list, maybe?’

‘Yeah, there’s more ink at the edge.’

A list of names. It seemed mundane compared to the collection of strange things Yerim owned.

‘Why tear this name off, though? What’s so important about Im Yeojin?’

Hyejoo shrugged. ‘Let’s hope it’s not a hit list.’

Vivi sat down next to her, placing the note on the bedsheets. A thought occurred to her.

‘You never told me what happened to you.’

Hyejoo said, ‘So, you speak French as well as German?’

‘Hyejoo—’

‘That’s fantastic. Congratulations.’ She stood up and stretched, stumbling slightly. ‘I’m going to the other room.’

Vivi stared at the wall, the ticking of a clock hiding the sound of Hyejoo leaving. The note still lay on the bed, so she picked it up and slid it into her pocket. All distractions gone, her head throbbed in pain.

***

‘…Brown. Could’ve have been black.’

Jiwoo sat once more at the table of the purple-fishy-psychic room. She and Sooyoung had met up with Chaewon at some point, who’d seemed to want to come. Jinsoul was holding a basket of raven feathers; she’d plaited some into her pale blonde hair.

‘And the award for the vaguest description ever goes to Sooyoung!’ said Jinsoul. Sooyoung gave her a flat look. ‘Do you remember her face?’

‘No, I told you, it was dark.’

‘Nothing? Nose shape? Height? Hair colour?’

‘Her hair could’ve been brow—’

‘We’re back where we started,’ said Jiwoo, her voice muffled by the table she’d face-planted onto.

Jinsoul said, ‘I can’t help you without some form of basic face recognition, Soo.’

Jiwoo’s earlier optimism had melted away like water squeezed from a sponge. There was no way Sooyoung would remember a girl she’d bumped into for 2 seconds weeks ago.

‘I was on the phone with you, Jinsoul, I wasn’t exactly paying attention to my surroundings!’

‘But I was.’ Jinsoul’s wide eyes had become very wide. ‘I was paying attention to every sound coming from that receiver. Your voice and the rustles of leaves and footsteps on damp concrete. And if I can reach those memories…’

‘You’ll know what the girl’s voice sounded like,’ finished Sooyoung. Jiwoo’s heart was a crackling bonfire. Jinsoul was incredible and a genius. Behind her girly looks and vacant expression was a mind that worked like cogs in a machine.

Jiwoo said, ‘Let’s do it.’

Chaewon said, ‘Wait.’

They stared at the blonde wisp of a girl. Chaewon’s face was blank and screwed-up and complicated all at the same time. For some reason, the room felt very cold.

‘Can I talk to Jinsoul alone, please?’ Jiwoo’s brain screamed. _Wrong, wrong, wrong._ No. Nothing was wrong. Sooyoung tilted her head at Jinsoul. Nonchalant. _Wrong._

Jinsoul said, ‘There’s another room at the back. Just don’t touch anything, please.’

Sooyoung and Jiwoo left Chaewon with Jinsoul and entered the blue-lit room. It was small and cosy, with fairy lights strung across the ceiling like a spider’s web. Pictures hung on the walls and a bed was pushed against the farthest wall. The goosebumps on Jiwoo’s arms disappeared. Sooyoung’s arm felt warm against hers.

Jiwoo flushed.

‘I’ve never…’ Sooyoung trailed off. Jiwoo understood why. Somehow this room held even more charm and perplexity than the first. Perhaps it was due to the personal touches: a photo of a young, wavy-haired child, crumpled sheets on a wicker bed, a clutter of cracked mirrors in the corner.

‘It feels like we’re intruding on something,’ said Jiwoo. Sooyoung nodded. Then she stepped closer to the old mirrors, facing each other.

There was a bookshelf opposite Jinsoul’s bed, stacked with a rainbow of novels and magazines. Jiwoo studied a brown, peeling book on the third shelf. _Ley Lines — An Advanced Study,_ it read.

‘I wonder why she kept all this broken stuff,’ said Sooyoung from behind her.

‘Maybe she’s nostalgic.’ The next book was titled _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz_ by _L. Frank Baum._

‘The glass is so cracked, why would she…?’ Sooyoung fell silent. Suddenly the room didn’t feel so warm anymore. ‘Jiwoo.’

‘What is it?’

‘I think we should stay very still.’

Jiwoo’s heart thumped rapidly. She didn’t turn round, despite knowing that Sooyoung was the only person behind her. There was nothing else there.

Sooyoung said slowly, as if her words would go unheard that way, ‘Jinsoul told us not to touch anything, right?’

Jiwoo said, ‘Yeah. She did.’ Her mouth was dry. Somewhere, someone was screaming.

‘My hand brushed against the mirrors.’

‘I-I’m sure Jinsoul won’t mind.’

‘There’s something wrong with it, Jiwoo.’

Forcing down her terror, Jiwoo turned around, very slowly, very quietly. Sooyoung stared at the mirrors, pale as bone. The mirrors were still and empty, no deadly aura or blood dripping from the cracks. The mirrors shone dully and banally.

The mirrors sent an unnerving chill down Jiwoo’s spine.

Somehow, the very air had changed. Every breath felt like a mouthful of brambles. Fear shook her limbs, yet she didn’t know why she was afraid. As she drew nearer to the mirrors, her blood curdled and froze.

‘We should go back to Jinsoul.’ Sooyoung’s body contradicted her words; she stood rooted to the floor, her eyes transfixed on the withered glass.

‘If we go back, maybe the screaming will stop,’ murmured Jiwoo.

Sooyoung said, ‘What screaming?’

The mirror swallowed everything, and the two girls’ eyes no longer saw the present. Their feet stood on Jinsoul’s floor but their minds stood on the shadow of a memory. The memory didn’t belong to Jiwoo. It didn’t belong to Sooyoung. It went like this:

Black-clad hands twirled the gleaming blade round and round, round and round, footsteps leaving the tiniest shadow of sound behind. Wraithlike and grey, the figure stalked down the hall of the house. They stood out, a stain among the normalcy, a blot upon a clean page.

The scene changed, as if it were a jump-cut in a film.

The house was gone, replaced by the darkened streets of Paris. Rivulets of rain tore down stone and brick, hitting the concrete like bullets. The only sounds were the mechanical whirs of cars speeding by, tearing the rain-spattered roads apart. For a moment, all was still. Then the bloodstained figure— no, _girl_ staggered down an alleyway.

The girl let out a shudder of a breath, and the scene flickered back again. Inside the house, the figure prowled closer to the woman at the sink. Through the windows, the dim light of dusk streamed through, a musky purple that contrasted with the thick black of the other memory. The woman in the kitchen tapped a jagged, frustrated rhythm on the counter, her blonde bob resting on tensed shoulders. She was still facing away from the masked figure.

The girl on the streets gasped. Her fluffy hair was matted with blood and tears streaked her face. Her left hand scrabbled at the wall, as is searching for a lifeline to hold onto. As she sank down against the wall, she clawed at her pockets, drawing out a phone.

The girl screamed—no, she _laughed._ A painful screech of mirth and hysteria ripped through her, shaking her entire body. She laughed and laughed, eyes glazed.

‘The fucking irony…’

The memory of the house sliced through her words, and the attacker snaked their arms around the now struggling woman. Before she could open her mouth to scream, her throat burst open, flooding her t-shirt with blood. The little blade was bloody, red coating silver, and the hooded figure watched as the woman crumpled, writhing on the ground. They watched, still and unreactive, soft brown eyes fixated on the woman.

She died. They walked to the sink and began cleaning the blade. Then they left, leaving like a shadow after sunset, no trace left behind. They memory followed them as they crossed the street, briskly entering a different neighbourhood.

The dark streets swam into view, the girl violently pressing buttons on her phone, panic flaring in her eyes. ‘Irony, irony, irony… fuck, call… call, call, call—’ Blood sprayed like waves as the knife struck down, again and again and again. Her face, such a familiar face, was contorted and twisted.

The girl from the house was surrounded by people now, her walk becoming casual. Amidst the safety of the crowd, she lifted a hand and pulled down her mask.

Jeon Heejin glanced at her watch. The tightened corners of her mouth and creased brow relaxed as she looked at it, not noticing the girl about to collide with her.

‘Ow! Ah, sorry, I didn’t see you…’

‘—and I’ve tried to be reasonable,’ said Sooyoung, briskly walking past, ‘you know I have, Jinsoul, but if she’s so stuck in her xenophobic ways that she won’t—’

The knife plunged down again, flashing white in the blackness and sending spatters of red onto the alley wall. The girl screamed and screamed and screamed, her torso nothing more than broken flesh. The attacker’s face was obscured, in fact it was impossible to even see where their face began. Though the girl gasped and retched, not even a flutter of breath escaped the attacker’s mouth.

It was as she stopped breathing that the girl’s face became clear, her identity painstakingly obvious.

It was then that the two memories ended, sending Jiwoo and Sooyoung crashing back to the present.

Jiwoo screamed. A long, anguished scream escaped her, her hands pressed against the sides of her head. The world swayed and knocked her off her feet, leaving her sobbing on the floor. She didn’t register Sooyoung’s embrace or the uneven breathing as she tried to stay calm, for Jiwoo, for herself. She didn’t register the worried call from the other room. Her mind was overflowing with the same images, images that moved like films, images that were overexposed and distorted and bloody and—

She wasn’t the only one screaming.

Jiwoo shot to her feet, Sooyoung hot on her heels as she stumbled to the door. Her heart was a thousand beating drums, pumping dread and fear through her veins. Her knees buckled, but she persisted, the ear-splitting cries sounding all too familiar.

Jiwoo stumbled into the room just in time to see Chaewon writhing and bleeding, her insides frayed and shredded, as if a blade was tearing her apart.

Again and again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! finally this 'plot twist' has been revealed phEw. things are getting intense wOOP!   
> on a side note, i recently started a writing twitter! feel free to follow me: @emmathesadnerd :D i'll be posting updates and previews whenever i can <3  
> as usual, thanks so much for reading!


	10. Hollow

Being Jung Jinsoul was a strange thing.

She’d been born with two sparks inside her: one being her psychic ability and the other being her instinctive and ardent curiosity, both leading her to discover and build things half the world had never dreamed of. When she, as a young child, had insisted that she felt more than a connection with her pet fish, her family laughed. When she had smothered her bedroom in deep purple, claiming it helped her concentrate, her family rolled their eyes.

She grew up to be as open-minded as her family were cynical, an anomaly in their lineage.

It was her open-mindedness that could’ve saved them, _should’ve_ saved them. Instead, her naivety had doomed them. After all, who would believe the word of an eccentric child? Perhaps if she’d kept her mouth shut about ghosts and ley lines and prophecies, they would’ve listened to her pleas of desperation.

Instead, the house fire had swallowed them, just as Jinsoul had predicted. And the girl born with two sparks was left with one: the ability that had failed her.

Over the years, she’d changed her tack, assuming a more ‘conventional’ way of warning and aiding others. Hiding away underneath a roller disco, many thought her a fraud or a scammer or even mind-addled. However, the superstitious and paranoid came to her, and she provided them with honest predictions, earning a small living along the way.

She fell back into her old habits when she met Yerim and Vivi. The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them: _Your best friend is going to die._ Hurt and anger had replaced Vivi’s confident expression, and for a moment, Jinsoul doubted herself. Perhaps she was a fraud, causing devastation and misery to everyone she met.

But in her veins she felt the truth flow like the gush of a river. She stayed silent, screaming inside, wanting to warn her, and then it was too late.

Death seemed to follow Jinsoul, not in the way it followed Jungeun, but just as horrific. Yet again, she stood faced by death and all she could do was watch as Chaewon died over and over again.

‘What… what’s h-happening?’ Sooyoung’s voice was like a ghost.

Through clenched teeth, Jinsoul replied, ‘She is reliving the moment of her death. On loop.’ It was disturbing to see. The attacker and weapon were not present, so it appeared as though Chaewon’s insides were tearing themselves apart, flesh cleaved open by an invisible blade. Blood coated the ghost girl but never touched the floor. It was memory, a shade, but a terrifyingly realistic one.

Sooyoung’s hands were over her mouth and Jiwoo, who’d been paralysed for a few minutes, rushed forward suddenly. She grabbed Chaewon’s convulsing form and shook her, words distorted by tears.

‘Chae Chaewon please look at me please _stop_ what’s happening why—’ Wracking sobs enslaved her body, her head hanging like a broken marionette. Jinsoul, for the first time in a long time, was hopelessly overwhelmed. To see a girl previously filled with wit, flair and rapture reduced to a shattered wreck was mind-numbing. She wondered what little Chaewon had been like… before.

Jiwoo squeezed her eyes shut tighter, pale and shaking. Her eyes were dry now but they were smattered with red blotches. Jinsoul remained rooted to the spot, aware of her own awkwardness, as if she were the ghost in the room. Finally, Chaewon seemed to stop, hazy and smudgy and not really there at all. Sooyoung quietly appeared at Jinsoul’s side.

‘I’m sorry. The mirrors… we…’

Jinsoul looked her in the eyes.

 ‘No matter what horrors you saw in there, I can promise you that you drew the longer straw. It could have been worse than you could imagine.’

‘I know what the killer looks like,’ said Sooyoung.

‘I know her name.’

Jiwoo swayed unsteadily, but she was standing. She repeated, ‘I know her n-name.’

Chaewon whispered, ‘Don’t.’

‘Jeon Heejin.’

Sooyoung collapsed into a chair. Jinsoul closed her eyes.

Chaewon just sighed.

***

‘You knew.’

‘Yes.’

‘How?’

‘I’m not like you,’ said Jinsoul. ‘You can’t sense the wrongness. The wrongness that is now your friend. And… she told me.’

Chaewon felt as if the conversation was happening in a different room. She could hear her friends and respond, but there was a dense wall encircling them, leaving her outside in the cold.

She was always cold.

Jiwoo asked, puffy-eyed, ‘When… how— why didn’t you tell us?’

Why? Why, why, why. It was a question Chaewon didn’t know the answer to. Or perhaps _Chaewon_ would have known the answer, but Chaewon was dead. She, this faded husk of a girl, did not know.

Chaewon said quietly, ‘Didn’t want to ruin your date.’

‘And you knew about Heejin.’

‘Jiwoo,’ she said, more gently than she thought a ghost could, ‘you’ve figured it out. You know it was more than just knowing…’ Words disappeared, as they often did. Alive, Chaewon would have felt frustrated. Now, she felt only a hollow disappointment.

Jiwoo hung her head, confusion and anger emerging and dissolving on her face, screwing up the round, bubbly face Chaewon was used to. She knew. Heejin hadn’t been the only mercenary.

‘You both… killed people. Innocent people,’ said Sooyoung. Numbly, Chaewon realised she’d never properly spoken to Sooyoung when she was alive. Sooyoung would only ever know a fractured shade of her. ‘Is that why you died? Did someone want revenge?’

Chaewon shook her head, too drained to form a sentence.

‘Then what?’ She noted the hint of anger creeping into Sooyoung’s voice. Heejin had killed her friend. Civility wasn’t going to come easy anymore.

‘I don’t know who…’ Her voice sounded decayed, like rotting apples and moth-eaten clothes. She sometimes (always) wondered how her friends hadn’t noticed the drastic change. She had been so much more. Now, she was simply less.

‘Did you not see their face?’ Sooyoung’s eyes drifted over hers, settling on a point just above Chaewon’s head. She understood now. Her presence was so weak that they couldn’t even look at her — though they did not realise this. Their brains wouldn’t allow them to perceive the crumbling ruins of a girl who had always loved to live.

‘Their face…’ Chaewon’s spiralling thoughts fractured, she tried to think, but found herself focusing on smaller insignificant things such as the flash of gold that shimmered when Jinsoul’s eyeshadow caught the light. ‘They didn’t have… they didn’t have a face.’

‘What do you mean?’ demanded Sooyoung, but she didn’t wait for an answer. Jiwoo’s eyes were unfocused, staring at the table. Even Jinsoul, with her clairvoyance and interest, thumbed through some cards and leaflets, paying her little attention. It was as if Chaewon was her own corpse lying in an alleyway, not an apparition with a mind and feelings. As the topic changed to Heejin and the mercenaries, Chaewon didn’t seem to be there anymore.

For the first time, she felt well and truly dead.

***

Nearby, Kim Jungeun ran. She was always running, carving a deathly path into the ground beneath her feet. It had taken her a while just to get in her car and drive, drive, drive, heading for the roller disco. When her fuel had run out, the dead emerged from the floor in a swarm of splintering bones, not leaving her enough time to even jump back inside. She’d left it there and then, door wide open, her feet taking the wheel. Somehow, she’d managed to drag her exhausted body to the centre of the city, meaning Jinsoul couldn’t be far away.

Sure enough, when she turned round a corner, a speck of purple winked in the sunlight. Breathlessly, she waved, and the figure waved back.

‘Give me a lift next time, Yerim,’ muttered Jungeun under her breath.

***

‘I think I’d like to be a cat.’

Hyunjin avoided having to elaborate by taking a substantial bite of the baguette Heejin had just bought. The coffee table was littered with, well, coffee, and lots of patisserie cakes.

‘A cat,’ repeated Heejin.

Vivi said, ‘Why that, specifically? Why not, say, a crested gecko or a lesser spotted woodpecker?’

‘Because you’re the only pretentious arse who actually knows what those are,’ said Hyejoo. Hyunjin nodded in agreement. Immediately, she cursed herself and all the gods in the universe, realising she’d just _agreed_ with Son Hyejoo.

Heejin sipped her coffee. Grey shadows hung under her eyes, darkening the soft brown irises. Her eyes matched her hair perfectly, mused Hyunjin subconsciously.

‘Cats,’ said Hyunjin finally, ‘are basically gods. They do whatever they like and get stroked and praised just for existing. I’d love to have that kind of freedom _and_ people who love me for it. Also fur. Very soft. Nice.’

‘Imagine how dangerous the world would be if cats ruled it,’ said Vivi. ‘Their claws alone could level a city.’

‘Don’t forget about the hairballs,’ added Hyejoo.

Heejin said, ‘And fish. Everywhere would smell of fish.’

Hyunjin chewed her baguette thoughtfully. ‘Sounds like paradise.’

The bitter smell of coffee wavered in the air as the four of them drank and inhaled pastries. Bread crunched and coffee rippled. Heejin’s watch let out a miniscule ‘beep’ and she covered it with her hand.

‘We should address the current issue,’ declared Vivi, her presence becoming stronger. ‘I hate to intrude on Heejin, so I think it’s safe to say that we need to find somewhere to go. A “sanctuary” if you like. The police could turn up at any moment, and I’m not sure how we’d explain Hy— uh, the _situation_ to them.’

‘Couldn’t that purple Yerim girl help us?’ suggested Hyejoo, wrinkling her nose. The movement caused her new pale scars to ripple like a grimace.

‘I doubt it,’ said Vivi. ‘I’m sure she’d have somewhere, but she won’t trust us. Not anymore.’

‘Do you know anyone in Paris who could help?’ asked Hyunjin, meeting Heejin’s gaze. The girl’s eyes narrowed somewhat.

‘Not anyone I’d be willing to put at risk.’ Heejin’s watch beeped again. Hyunjin raised an eyebrow.

‘—about you, Hyejoo,’ Vivi was saying, ‘do you know anyone?’

‘Nope.’ She didn’t elaborate. Hyunjin watched Vivi’s eyes narrow and wondered if something was up between those two.

‘I don’t mind you guys lying low here for a while,’ said Heejin. She smiled at Hyunjin. ‘As long as you don’t go out too much…’

Hyunjin frowned. ‘What about your job?’

‘It’s part-time,’ answered Heejin quickly. ‘More like I get called out, actually.’ _Beep beep._ ‘I shouldn’t be too busy.’

‘The fact remains,’ interrupted Vivi, ‘that we can’t stay here indefinitely. I, for one, would like to clear this mess up so that our current or future careers aren’t damaged.’

‘Well, Hyunjin’s future career is probably a furry so—’

Hyunjin elbowed Hyejoo. ‘Do you _like_ having hair, or should I shave your head while you sleep?’ Hyejoo flipped her off.

‘Look,’ said Heejin, ‘I’ll call my friends in Paris. Who knows, they might know someone who could help.’

Vivi bit her lip. ‘As long as we’re not endangering them.’

‘You won’t. I’ll make sure of that.’

Hyunjin said, ‘And Heejin, you might want to get a new watch.’ It had been beeping randomly for the past ten minutes. Each time, Heejin had flinched, as if she’d been hurt.

Heejin nodded. ‘Yeah. You might be right.’ She put down her empty coffee cup on the table. She checked her phone. ‘Oh, I’ve been called out. I’ll be out all day, so make yourselves at home.’

Hyunjin found it strange that Heejin’s phone hadn’t notified her, and even weirder that she was being summoned by text. Plus, Heejin still hadn’t told them what her job was. Something uneasy lingered in her mind, but then she remembered that they’d only met a few days ago. To Heejin, she and the others were still three strangers.

It was strange, though. Hyunjin felt as if she’d known Heejin for much longer.

***

The concrete step upon which Jiwoo was sat on felt icy and hard. Her hands blistered from the frigid November breeze. Sooyoung didn’t hold them in hers. The two of them sat in silence, listening to the electric flickering of the neon sign above them: _Toute ma Vie._

_All my life._

Numbly, Jiwoo watched cars pass by in front of her. A blue Ford. An orange Camaro. A red Mini. Red. Red like the rivers of blood gushing from torn skin, red like it coating the floor, red, so much blood, so red—

Jiwoo withheld a scream. ‘Please talk to me.’

Sooyoung replied quietly, ‘About what?’

‘Anything.’

A yellow car whizzed past. Tires skidded on tarmac.

‘I… I love playing bass. Most people would find it a boring instrument,’ said Sooyoung, her voice brittle. ‘Because… it’s just the bass, y’know? It’s much more appealing to have a guitar solo… or drums… or… yeah.’

Jiwoo found her eyes drifting to the girl next to her. This was a different girl to the one she’d idolised. Smudged eye makeup ran down her face like ash, sticking her flimsy lashes together. The red lipstick was gone, too.

‘But I was always drawn to it, I’m not sure why. Maybe because it could be calming… and low… but also gritty and dark.’

The biggest change, however, was the tremble of her lower lip, the twisting of her hands on her lap. Or the crushed glass that had replaced those bright eyes. It was as if a layer of confidence had been peeled away.

Jiwoo asked, ‘Are you gritty and dark?’ She already knew Sooyoung was calming, otherwise why had the twisted lump in her chest began to ease?

‘I’m… someone who regrets a lot of things,’ said Sooyoung dejectedly. Tears clung to her clumpy lashes. ‘If you knew the half of who I am then… hell, I don’t even know who I am anymore. You wouldn’t want to be near me.’

‘But I do.’ The words came out her mouth before she’d thought of them. Her cheeks reddened.

Sooyoung didn’t seem to notice. She thrust her head in her hands, clawing at her dark hair. Her breathing was rapid and short.

‘I don’t… I thought I’d ran away from all this… all this death… she’s a g-ghost, Jiwoo, she shouldn’t even exist!’

‘We should g-go inside. Your hands look cold.’

‘It’ll be freezing inside as long as she’s in there,’ said Sooyoung shakily. A dull blow hit Jiwoo’s stomach. Chaewon, her friend, was now something unwanted, like a broken glass. Her friend was a shell, a shadow of what she’d been two weeks ago. Her friend was an assassin, she’d killed innocent people.

Her friend was a mutilated corpse lying in the street.

Jiwoo held a hand over her mouth to stop herself from throwing up. Her mind was painted red with Chaewon’s blood as it spattered across a wall, dripped onto concrete…

_‘You guys will not BELIEVE who I just met!’_

Chaewon’s bubbly voice rang in her ears. Milkshakes, macarons, concerts.

_‘Damnit Jiwoo, I’m going to go broke.’_

The knot in her chest was taut to breaking point.

_‘The fucking irony.’_

Jiwoo’s heart tore itself in two.

***

Alone. Finally, she was alone.

Hyunjin fell backwards onto the bed, the duvet puffing up around her with a _schwoosh._ She closed her eyes.

Heejin had gone out, meaning she no longer had to lie awake rocking back and forth as she willed her eyes to stay open and her mind to stay closed. Under her eyes, the skin was tinged grey.

She wasn’t certain why she didn’t want Heejin to know her secret. Perhaps it was because too many people already knew. It was meant to be private, hidden. Normal people didn’t have to worry about their dreams being discovered. Hyunjin’s dreams were thrust out of her like a tidal wave.

There was something else, though. A small, maddening part of her _wanted_ Heejin to know. Hyunjin found this extremely aggravating and, quite frankly, a betrayal to her stubbornness. Every time her mind focused on Heejin’s dark waves or delicate lashes for a _fraction_ too long, she had to mentally slap herself.

Suppressing things like this was one of Hyunjin’s only talents, so it was one that she stubbornly clung to. As her head sunk into the far-too-squidgy hotel pillow, she let her mind wander to what had been sticking to her consciousness for days.

_What if?_ It was the question that rang in her ears every day. _What if I could be more?_ The sight of Hyejoo’s skin knitting itself back together replayed in her head. Threads of her power stitching a wound closed. Effortlessly.

It seemed unbalanced and distorted that she could save a life, yet she couldn’t even dream one properly.

Yerim’s words still haunted her. The girl she dreamed would only stay awake while Hyunjin lived. It wasn’t fair. Life belonged to the individual, not fate or anyone else. Hyunjin’s life was her own, so why wasn’t it the same for what she dreamed?

Hyunjin had failed that girl. Perhaps there was nothing she could do for her now.

But she wouldn’t fail the next one.

Her dream world shimmered into view. The familiar snow-capped hills lay along the horizon and trees peppered the landscape. The bare, white frost glinted and the plane wreck stood still.

Yet, something was strange.

Not a single whisper came from the trees, not even a rustle of leaves. Distant brooks didn’t ripple, and the sky was empty and blue. Not a single bird flew, except for the white dove circling her.

Cabeswater was silent.

Hyunjin took a tentative step across the ice, squinting for a sign of life. Even the dove was quiet. It flew in front of her, green eyes shining.

Green. How odd that a dove had green eyes.

Her feet crunched on the thick, icy floor and the dove flapped. Its wings were noiseless. As she drew nearer to the plane wreck, the ground changed. The faultless white was spotted with red. Hyunjin stopped in her tracks.

‘What happened?’ she whispered. The dove stared at her with fearful eyes, eyes that looked far too human.

A low growl pierced the silence.

_Night horrors,_ thought Hyunjin with a chill. But… night horrors didn’t growl. She listened again, heart pounding, but the silence swallowed the air once more. The dove’s beak was open in a silent scream, warning her.

‘What is it?’ Blood pounded in her ears, deafening amongst the silence. The dove swooped low, fluttering madly behind her.

_Pat. Pat. Pat._

Hyunjin whirled round. Something was hitting the ice, like a leaking tap. Frigid mist blurred her vision; she couldn’t see where the sound was coming from.

There was a snarl. Hyunjin started to shake, it sounded closer. She searched and searched and—

There. A dark shape loomed in the mist. All she could do was watch, paralysed, as the fog cleared. Blood stained the ground, falling in drops that landed with a _pat._ Claws raked the ice like knives.

The wolf glared at her with eyes of gleaming crimson, its gaping maw dripping with gore and feathers.

_So that’s what happened to the birds._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not entirely satisfied with this chapter, especially at the end, but i guess it's hard to write the aftermath of a big 'twist' or 'cliffhanger'. aaah i hope you guys still like it <3

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: this story is quite dark. there will be blood, guts, and psychological trauma. i will try to remember to add trigger warnings whenever i think a scene or chapter could be upsetting to someone. also, the characters are *very loosely* based on trc characters, their loonaverse selves, or their real selves, but they're also quite morally ambiguous since i love writing those kinds of characters. they're gonna be assholes to each other but don't worry, i know that irl the loona girls are sweethearts!  
> another disclaimer: i have never been to a music school, nor do i fluently speak german or french, so i apologise in advance for the myriad of inaccuracies that will occur.  
> with that said, i hope you enjoy this story! - emma <3


End file.
